


Just Don't Leave Me

by lavenderlotion



Series: Steter Appreciation Week [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Birth, Blowjobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cum Eating, Cum Marking, Cum Play, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Good Peter Hale, Hand Jobs, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Kink, Labour, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mpreg, Panic Attacks, Piss, Piss Play, Scenting, Scott is a Bad Friend, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Sickening Fluff, Soft Peter Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Steter Week, Steter Week 2017, Stilinski Family Feels, Surprise Kink, Under-negotiated Kink, at home birth, handjobs, peeing, water sports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2019-02-05 05:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 30,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12788355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: Stiles had no idea it could happen. Really, he hadn’t. But itdidand he had to deal with the fallout, alone. And, and after everything with Scott, and Derek, that was a daunting task. At least, he had his dad, god was he thankful he had his dad, but - but he couldn't say he didn’t wish he had Peter, too.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frostedgoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedgoddess/gifts).



> November 28: Stiles is pushed out of the pack
> 
> Sometimes we just want to see Stiles hurting emotionally and/or physically. What pack is he pushed from? The Hale pack? The McCall pack? The Hale/McCall pack? It’s up to you. What happens after he’s pushed out? What does he do and who does he turn to? Why was he pushed out? This could go as dark as you want or as sweet and hurt/comfy as you like.
> 
>  
> 
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> 
> [](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com/post/165549676132/today-is-the-day-we-share-the-theme-suggestions)

Stiles wakes sore.

His ass hurts, and his hips, too. He grumbles as he stretches, rubbing his face into the pillow case, sighing out at how soft it is. Peter’s sheets feel amazing, and Stiles isn’t sure why he's surprised. He knows how much of a snob the man is - seriously, he buys designer _v-necks_ \- so it only makes sense for his sheets to be as ridiculous.

He rolls over onto his side, poking out an arm and trying to find Peter to pull him closer. He’s cold and if there’s one thing he knows by now, it’s that werewolves give off crazy amounts of body heat. His hand hits nothing but mattress and he cracks an eye half open, peering around the room.

It’s too dark for him to see much, which is fine, since he wouldn’t need much light to spot a person. Which - well he’s not spotting anyone right now so he peels open his other eye and pulls up the smallest bit of his spark. The room instantly goes bright and he can see - and alright, being able to see in the dark will never stop being _awesome_.

But, there’s still no one, and he sighs, flopping down back onto the bed. He could - he could go back to sleep? Peter is probably in the bathroom, or maybe he’s getting water but - but Stiles doesn’t actually hear anything. It’s the type of silence he recognizes, having a parent who occasionally works night shifts. Less, now, but his dad still still isn’t there at times. So he knows what an empty household sounds like and Peter’s apartment sounds pretty empty.

He sits himself back up, trying not to frown. It doesn’t - it doesn’t have to mean anything. He shifts and winces. Peter had been gentle, had stretched Stiles open _slow_ , had taken his time until Stiles was begging. But - but he’s still sore. His ass is really not used to having anything up there, let alone someone’s _penis_.

Wow, Stiles isn’t a virgin. He lets that thought settle for a moment and he breathes deep. He - he doesn’t feel any different - other than the gentle throbbing of his asshole, which is still weird - and he never really expected he would, but. He looks down, distracted by the dark purple bruises on his hip bones. He settles his hand around over one, his fingertips lining up with the small imprints in his skin.

Huh, Peter left bruises. Stiles kind of, well, he kind of likes it.

He stands, finally, and searches for his clothes. They’ve been folded, which makes it easy to pull everything on and exit the room, making sure to grab his phone from where Peter must have plugged it in. Stiles just hums while he grabs it, flicking it on and trying not to think about the blank screen staring back at him, the lack of notifications.

He leaves the room, making a stop in the ensuite to reveal himself and splash water on his face. It was only six and he had _no_ idea what he was doing up so early, especially when they had went to bed so late. He can’t imagine why Peter would already be up unless - no. No. He leaves the bedroom but the rest of the apartment is just as quiet, just as empty.

Oh.

Oh, he’s alone.

He has no idea where Peter is, but Stiles’ shoes are at the front door, his ratty converse neatly placed alongside Peter’s loafers. He - alright, well he isn’t sure why the man would leave unless, unless he -

Right. Okay. Stiles bites his lip hard, curling his hands into fists. He had long since become accustomed to withholding tears. He had never liked to cry in front of the older kids, even when they pushed him down and he scraped his knee or his hand bad. When he cried they just laughed at him harder, called him worse names.

Then there was his dad, after his mom got sick. It was easier to not show the man just how much he was hurting, felt like he had to, sometimes. And when his dad was finally able to handle his own grief enough that he _maybe_ could have been able to help Stiles through his, it was already too late. Stiles had already learned how to hide his red eyes and his puffy nose.

So he did that now, squeezed them together against their stinging. He - well he didn’t know why he was surprised. Who, who would want _him_. Jesus, he - he should have known better. Peter must have, god the man must have been desperate. Or maybe it was because Stiles was just easy? Had been there and had been willing and had said yes?

Or, or maybe Peter had felt bad. It wasn’t a secret that Stiles was a virgin and maybe the man felt bad for him? Wanted to help? They - they were friends after all, at least he had thought they were friends. He - he didn't really know what they were now. But, but Stiles could safely assume they weren’t anything more, especially with how the man wasn’t even there.

Stiles probably wouldn’t want to sleep next to himself, either.

Stiles knew his own faults, wasn’t blind to them. He knew he was too loud and that he talked too much. How he was unappealing, too tall, limbs too long, face to - well he wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with his face, but. He knew, he knew no one liked his freckles, that it was just another thing that set him aside, made him weird.

 _Dirty_ , was what they’d always been called. Stiles - Stiles had always thought they were pretty. They had reminded him of his mom and when she had first died they were something of her that he could proudly carry. But, but they _weren’t_ pretty. And - and he had so many. Oh god, Peter had seen them all, had seen him naked.

Peter had seen him naked. No wonder he wasn’t here.

But Stiles also knew he was too weird. Too loud and that he talked to much. He was aware that he took up too much space, no matter how hard he tried to be quieter, softer in his actions. It had never helped him, and he had never been treated any better no matter how hard he tried to change himself. Peter was the one person he spent the most time with, would get to see all that Stiles was and all that there was to dislike. He was a little surprised the man had stuck around so long, actually.

Stiles clenched his hands into tighter fights, his eyes burning worse than before and he harshly wiped at his cheek when he started to cry. He, fuck. It didn’t matter, it wasn't like he even had feelings for the man. Stiles almost laughed at that, though the noise would have been bitter. Of course he had feelings for Peter, how the hell could he not.

The man - well Peter was a lot better than he had first thought. The older wolf was the only reason Stiles even knew magic. It wasn’t as though Deaton would have been any help. Stiles sighed, pushing his palms into his eyes hard until his vision went spotty. He blinked and took a deep breath. God - how could he, how could he be so _stupid_.

Peter didn’t like him. It was simple, obvious and Stiles needed to leave, needed to get out. He barely had the mind to pull his shoes on before he was out the door. The wait for the elevator was nearly too much and his heart was beating fast. He just - he just wanted to be home. Home and in his bed and he wanted to sleep and he didn't want to wake him.

If he woke up the hurt in his chest would still be there, the heaviness around his heart making itself at home. He didn’t want to deal with it, didn’t want to deal with knowing Peter had had him but didn’t want him. That Peter had seen everything Stiles was and decided that it wasn’t for him, or maybe that it wasn’t enough. Either way it _hurt_.

Stiles could barely concentrate on the drive home. He tried desperately to push down his panic, the hurt that was bubbling in his chest and focus on the cars around him. It wasn’t crazy busy, but the early workers were already about and Stiles couldn’t black out, couldn't just stop watching where he was going because he was upset.

He did reach home safely and made a beeline for his bed, thankful his father wasn’t there. What - what would he even tell his dad? At least he was eighteen, so it wasn't like his dad would have much reason to be upset. Besides, his dad liked Peter now, especially after he had helped out last year.

God. Stiles didn’t want to think about the past, didn’t want to think about their easy friendship and their gentle flirtationship. He had - he had been sure that it went both ways, that they really had something together, could maybe even have something more. But - but maybe that had all been in his head? It was obvious Peter was no longer interested. It - it made him feel _used_ , made him want to curl up and cry. So he did, pulling his covers high around him and curling up, pulling a pillow tight to his chest

Then, then he allowed himself to cry, alone and safe and silent.

* * *

He doesn’t - god he doesn’t want it to be true.

Either way, he needs to be sure. The uncertainty was killing him, has been eating away at him since he noticed it. And - and then he had done research, thrown himself into trying to find out just _what_ was wrong with him. Needless to say, he had been freaking surprised. But - but it had felt right, his spark settling in his chest from where it had been wild with anxious energy.

And he knew if he tried he’d be able to feel it, the second, little glow of energy inside him. But he, but he needed to be sure. It was why he was pacing in the lobby of Deaton’s office, terrified of what the man was going to tell him. God, it shouldn't even possible, shouldn’t be something that could happen but - his spark had always been a little unpredictable and really, even Stiles didn’t even know his own limits yet.

So there’s a possibility and that - that is _terrifying_. He has no idea what to do if - if.

He doesn't know yet. Until he knows he doesn’t have to worry about what comes next. That thought gives him the strength to ring the little bell. He can feel the magic from the barrier inside the building. It’s weak, compared to what he could do with mountain ash, but it does its job. While Stiles knows he could normally cross it, he isn’t going to chance it today. Not with, fuck. He’s just not going to take the chance, this is too important.

He rings the bell once more, trying again to calm the desperate beating of his heart. It had been racing far too fast since he first let himself even _consider_ the possibility. And he _knows_ that it could be bad, could be causing damage to the, to the. Something like a growl pushes its way from Stiles’ throat and he’s ashamed that he can’t even say the word, that he’s too _scared_.

He rings the bell again, his fear making him more annoyed than he maybe should be. He can’t help it though. He knows if a wolf were around he would smell a mess of anxiety, nervous energy radiating off him. As it is, he is terrified, terrified it could be true.

The man exits the back before Stiles can work himself up too much for a second time and the boy is glad. He really doesn't need to be having panic attacks ontop of everything else. The man stops in front of the partition, the barrier of mountain ash that Stiles knows is there between them still. Deaton doesn’t say anything, instead he just stares at Stiles as he stands there, hands clasped loosely together in front of him.

Stiles just stares right back, not able to bring himself to speak, at least not yet. He wants another moment to pretend that it could be in his head, that he can’t feel the little spot of energy inside him, how it reacts and reflects his own spark but is also something _more_.

He doesn’t want to think of what that more is.

“I need - I need you to keep this a secret, okay?” Stiles asked. The silence was stretching for too long, his mind moving too fast to allow it to continue. He wasn’t above begging, not at this point. The man didn't say anything, though he did decline his head in acknowledgement and Stiles felt like that was enough.

“I - I think I’m pregnant?” He said, though his voice raised at the end. He felt like an idiot saying it out loud but, but what else could it be?

At first he hadn’t quite noticed. He didn’t have the best sleeping habits to begin with, so being extra tired all the time hadn’t seemed that strange. But when he started falling asleep at nearly eight each evening and then _continuing_ to sleep until the morning, well. It wasn’t just that, though.

The nausea was what really made him worry. He had always had a rather strong stomach - he was a teenage boy after all. Not much bothered him and he didn’t often get sick. So when he started throwing up nearly every morning he couldn't help but be worried. But - but then certain _smells_ would set him off and he would have to book it to the closet washroom.

So he had been worried, and he had down what he always did when that was the case. Research was comfortable for him, something he knew he was good at. It helped that he needed the distraction from the knot that had since made itself a home in his gut, the emptiness gathering and expanding in his stomach. He researched, trying desperately to ignore his much quieter phone, no more sarcastic texts or witty jokes to read - no more bad-angled-bed-head snapchat selfies to open.

He used his research and his worry to distract himself from the _hurt_ . And it worked, if only so well. And then what he had found had seemed insane, that there was _no way._ But there was also no way werewolves existed, no way he should be able to move ash with his mind. Stiles had long since stopped doubting the impossible.

So he went to Deaton because if anyone could help, it would be that man. It wasn’t his first choice but - but, he wasn’t thinking about his first choice right now. Instead he watched as Deaton continued to look at him, face giving away nothing - and that was the main reason the man wasn’t his first choice. Stiles had just said some jaw dropping shit and the man had not outwardly reacted at all.

It made him - it made him nervous. It always had, and he had never once trusted the man. Not since he had _killed himself,_ subsequently opening up a fucking doorway into his brain, leading to his almost possession. So he didn’t like not being able to read the man. It made him uncomfortable.

“Come to the back,” Deaton instructed, lifting the partition and Stiles felt the barrier snap. It didn’t make him feel any better.

He sat himself on one of the cool metal tables. Stiles had often wondered how animals could _ever_ be comfortable on these things, since he sure as hell wasn’t. He watched as the man pulled out a needle, still silent as he moved around the room. Stiles tried to get a read on the man with his magic but he - he couldn't. The man always had a - shield, of sorts, around him. It blocked everything out and didn’t allow Sites to _ever_ get a read on him.

“I am going to take some blood now,” The man informed him, right before _doing just that,_ tieing his arm before prodding at his vein, jabbing the needle into Stiles’ skin and slowly drawing out the blood - letting two vials fill before he pulled out the needle and made Stiles hold a cotton pad to the area.

“Are you even trained to do this?” Stiles asked, scrunching up his face.

The man didn’t answer.

Instead he left the room, letting the door swing close behind him and leaving Stiles alone. He pulled out his phone but the blank screen just hurt to see. It had been so _long_ since he had no one to text. With - with Peter, he’d always had someone there. Even if the man would tease Stiles about texting during class he was always quick to answer. Not only that, but the man so often texted Stiles first.

He hadn’t realized how little that happened. When he really thought about it - which he didn’t like to often do - he realized how small his friend circle was. Ever since he had graduated and summer began, he had spent nearly no time outside of his home. Yeah, for the first few weeks he had always been with Peter but now - now he spent a lot of time at the station with his dad.

And it wasn’t like his dad was going to text him. God knew the man hardly could. So he hadn't realized quite how narrow his social circle had gotten, just how little interaction he had with _anyone else_ until right now. It, god it hurt. Things had been so much easier during the school year, when he had seen everyone everyday. It had never felt like this. Noticing it now made it easy to look back and see the pattern, one he was able to ignore during school.

He really, really wished he hadn’t. He could feel tears stinging at his eyes, realizing just how _alone_ he was. He hadn’t realized just how far away he was from everyone, that the only two people he spent quality time with were Peter and his dad. And now he didn’t even have Peter, either.

Stiles had no idea how long the man was away before he came back but Stiles wiped at his eyes anyway, trying to swipe away the moisture gathered. The man was still showing nothing on his face, his expression as void as it ever was and it made Stiles angry. Here he was, freaking out, and the man couldn't even give him a hint.

“I have the results.” Deaton said once he was stood in front of Stiles, staring at the boy.

“That was oddly fast Doc. You sure about that?” Stiles questioned. He - he didn’t _think_ there was a blood lab in the back of the office, but.

“I am sure.” The man said, then he held out a piece of paper to Stiles that made zero sense and looked far to medical for him to understanding the least.

“So, what does this mean?” Stiles asked though - though he knew. He knew.

“Congratulations,” The man said, and Stiles’ magic flared bright with anger, sparking out around his shoulders and between his fingers, the paper going up in flame, “Sorry. Wrong choice of words. You are pregnant.”

Fuck.

 _Fuckity fucking fuck_.

Stiles had no idea how he got home. God, he could barely remember the drive and he was thankful that at least he was partly aware of his surroundings, at least enough to pull into his driveway. He had left Deaton’s office soon after the big reveal, the man calling after him but making no move to follow. He felt - he felt disconnected, like he was floating above everything else. Hazy. He felt hazy, like when he drank too much.

Everything was far away and reality felt like it was slipping between his fingers. His life, god how could this be his life? How could - how would - _fuck_ . Fuck, he had messed up. How - how was he going to tell his dad? How _could_ he tell his dad? What would he _say_. He was going to be so disappointed, god, Stiles just knew.

And - and, fuck, god _no_ . That hurt far too much to think about. His chest was burning and Stiles realized it was because he _wasn’t breathing_ and he sucked in as much air as he could, desperately trying to calm himself back down. He was in his room now - and he couldn't even bring himself to wonder how he gotten there - and he sank onto his bed, curling around his body, around his _stomach_ and breathing deep.

He choked on a sob, his eyes burning and tears spilling over even as he hugged himself tighter. He couldn’t, he, he -. Stiles screamed, yelled out his frustration, his anger, his hurt. He yelled and yelled and his spark rose under his skin, shining bright in the dark lighting of his room. He let his magic grow and grow, crying harder and harder as he _felt_ the energy inside himself, the one he hadn’t been allowing himself to feel for this very reason.

He let his magic swell, let it clear his mind and then, let it pull him under.

* * *

Stiles was only half awake, hand settled on the flat of his belly. Sometime in his sleep he had shoved one of his pillows between his legs and had pulled another one against his body, cuddling it harshly. He grumbled, trying to let sweet, sweet darkness pull him back under. But then he heard it again, the scritching that had first woken him up.

He knew what a wolf at his window sounded like.

He all but jumped up, trying desperately to fight the smile on his face, going as far as to bite his lip. Finally, _finally_ he was hearing from Peter. It had hurt, the two weeks that the man had stayed away, but Stiles guessed he could sort of understand. Well, no. He had no idea why the man had decided to stay away, why the man hadn’t once contacted Stiles. And it hurt, hurt every _day_ , but, but what was he going to do?

So he made his way to his window, only freaking out for a moment about being in his batman pajamas before realizing that the man had seen him _naked_ , and if he had been okay with that he would probably be okay with Stiles’ childish choice of sleepwear. Whatever, he was going to be too busy yelling at the man for Peter to point out his clothing.

He had to hold back a sob when he saw it was Scott.

He - he didn’t know why his friend was here. Scott hadn’t been over to visit once in the month they had been out of school and he had hardly texted either. The realization he had made at Deaton’s only days before was still ringing in the back of his mind. And it hurt, to see Scott now, to know he meant so little to his ‘best friend’. It was already _August_ , and entire month since their graduation.

And yes, he had texted Scott, but he stopped after the fourth message went unanswered. He wasn’t about to put in all the work, not after how long they’d been friends. But he - he had just been so busy with Peter for the first two weeks, and then there was the fact that he was _pregnant_ to deal with, so making plans with the teen Alpha hadn’t really been a priority.

But, but Scott was standing outside his window, looking in, his face pulled down into a frown. He knocked again and Stiles rolled his eyes, unlocking the window to let him in. Scott - in his usual clumsiness - all but fell in, like he had done every single time he had ever sneaked into Stiles’ bedroom before the supernatural invaded their lives. It made Stiles laugh and it cut through the bitter disappoint still lingering at not seeing Peter.

“Hey dude, what are you doing he-” Stiles began, trying his best to throw on a cheerful smile.

“Is it true?” Scott demanded right away, not even getting Stiles a chance to finish.

And Stiles just cocked his head to the side, because no. There was no way Scott could be asking what Stiles thought, no way the boy would know. He - fuck, Scott couldn’t know.

“I - what do you mean Scotty?” He tried, keeping his voice calm.

“Don’t lie to me!” The wolf’s voice was more of a growl now and Stiles took a cautious, half step back at the boy's anger.

Scott, Scott didn’t do anger. Really, he often didn’t do strong emotions at all. It was something Stiles had learned early on, that there wasn’t much more than Scott McCall than there seemed. The boy was simple in his going ons, and his mind just didn’t work in an overly complex way. It was refreshing to be near someone so straightforward, but. But Stiles hadn’t seen Scott angry in a long time.

“I’m not lying, I just don’t know for sure what you mean?” Not a lie, so his heart didn’t stutter. Peter had been doing his best to teach Stiles how to lie to wolf's as honestly as possible. So while Stiles _thought_ he knew what Scott was referring to, he couldn't be sure.

Scott swung his arms about, gesturing at Stiles and his stomach before stating, “You’re _pregnant_?!”

“Oh,” Stiles said, trying to ignore the fury inside him. Deaton - he never should have even _went_ to the man, but his options had been - well they had been limited. There _hadn’t_ been anyone else, “Yes. That is true.”

“Deaton said it had to be a werewolf, but I _know_ it wasn’t Isaac or Derek!” Scott said, his voice only growing as he continued on.

“Was there a question somewhere in there?”

“Did you fuck Peter!” Scott’s eyes flashed red with the question and Stiles really did take a step back, curling a hand over his stomach, hardly aware of the action.

“Why yes, I did,” Stiles rolled his eyes, trying his very best to appear calm. He locked down on his scent, keeping it close and he watched as Scott’s nostrils flared but he didn’t call attention to it, instead continuing with his shouting.

“How - how _could you?_ ” And that - Stiles didn’t know how to answer.

“What do you _mean_ how could I?”

“After - after everything he did to me. After he _bit_ me!” Scott roared the last word and Stiles flinched, though the Alpha didn’t care, just continued to stare hard at Stiles with glowing eyes.

Stiles just stared in shock, reeling back as the boy tried to turn the whole situation around on himself. How - how could Scott even be _doing_ that? He - god, he was pregnant, _he_ was supposed to be freaking out not - not the other way around. And he couldn’t, he couldn’t even understand what Scott was saying. He _liked_ being a werewolf, liked the advantages it gave him so Stiles wasn’t sure why he was so caught up on that particular event.

“Seriously Stiles? Were you that desperate? After everything Peter did to me!” Scott accused, his hands trembling at his sides, knuckles white from the fists he was making. Stiles didn’t even get a chance to respond before Scott was bareling on.

“It’s just, it’s really pathetic Stiles.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ” Stiles demanded, wanting to stamp his foot, or scream, or _punch_ something.

"I can't believe you'd do that with _him_ . He's old! He's killed people! He tried to kill _me_!” Stiles stood there in shock, staring at his once best friend as he tried - well he didn’t really know what he was trying to do.

Calm his magic, yes. It was raging under his skin, flaring bright and hot and _angry_ . And Stiles, well Stiles was too. He couldn't - how could Scott _say_ that? How could he be turning it all onto him?

Scott was not the one pregnant. And yes, Stiles is not blind to Peter’s past faults. But he also spent a ridiculous amount of time with the man over the last year. Hell, Peter _saved his life._ Stiles - Stiles couldn't think of the man as evil, not after that. And he didn’t want to, even now as he was _hurting_ because of the man, couldn't help but see all the things he _was_ , all the good.

“Just - just c’mon. Deaton said he can get rid of it, but it’s better to not wait.” Scott explained. The boy slumped his shoulders and sighed, as if suddenly he was over the conversation and was moving on.

“ _Get rid of it?_ ” Stiles shouted, staring at other teen in horror. Get rid, get - _no_. No, that wasn’t an option.

“Yes, of course.”

“ _Of course_ ?! I am not _aborting my child!_ ” Stiles screamed the words, his magic bleeding into his voice as it filled the room, echoing against the walls.

“Well,” Scott began, top lip curling over his fangs as he snarled, eyes flashing alpha red. “It'd be better for you to miscarry than bring that _abomination_ into the world!”

Stiles’ entire body recoiled and his spark flared bright in protest, sparking and _pushing_. Energy shot outwards of Stiles’ chest and straight at Scott, throwing the teen through the window he was still standing in front of with a crash. Stiles watched as plaster rained down, the glass and wooden paneling holding the window together falling away from the wall and down, thumping when it finally hit the ground.

He stood there, breathing heavy as he tried to - tried to comprehend what had just happened. How could, god how Scott _say_ that? What was he thinking? And, and how could he be so selfish? He had always known the boy _could_ be, the way he had hogged toys as a child and then hogged friends, how he had so quickly snatched his popularity but left Stiles in behind.

But this? This was a new level.

And it hurt.

Stiles brought his arms around his body, feeling like he was falling apart, splitting open and he wasn’t sure how he was expected to hold himself together. He - fuck, he didn’t think he had Scott anymore. His, his best friend, his _brother_ . He couldn't, he wasn’t sure he _could_ be friends - not after - not.

Fuck. What was he going to do. He knees gave out at the same time his spark settled back into his chest, his energy dropping out of him as he sagged to the floor. He cried out, screaming his frustration until his throat was raw, until all that he could do was sob pathetically, begging for his _brother_ , for Scott.

But he, he didn’t _want_ Scott, and he threw a ward against his window - er, the whole in his wall - to make sure the boy wouldn’t be able to get in, expanding his senses and letting his magic encase his whole house, making sure his friend - not his friend, god, no longer his friend - wouldn't be able to get anywhere close to him.

He - he couldn't see Scott again. He had made it very clear what he thought, what the - fuck, what he thought about _Stiles_. And he couldn't, no. No. because Stiles wasn’t pathetic, wasn’t something awful. And he wasn’t going to let Scott convince him that he was, not when he was so close to thinking those thoughts himself.

But no. He had - he had thought there was something more, thought the man _cared_ about him. It wasn’t his damn fault that turned out not to be the case - that the man had just been, just. Fuck, had just been _using_ him.

He was done. He wouldn’t - no. Not after, that.

Fuck. He pushed himself up, letting himself fall onto his bed and curling around his pillow before he allowed himself to cry, his chest heaving and lungs burning as he tried to _breath_ , tried to pull in enough air around the tightness of his throat. It hurt, and he was crying because of what Scott said, yes, but he was also mourning his best friend. The boy he used to bike around with, push on the swings.

The - the one who held him when he lost his mother, the one whom he returned the favour for when his father walked out. The boy who had been his best friend even Jackson Whittemore had declared Stiles ‘too weird’ to play with and everyone else had seemed to agree. He - god, it hurt. His heart felt too heavy for his chest and he curled up tighter, screaming and crying and letting it out, trying desperately to expel the _hurt_.

It _hurt_.

* * *

Stiles was shaking - his fingers trembling where he rested his hands in his lap. His knee wouldn’t stop jiggling under the table and his eyes were still darting around the room. His magic was flaring bright under his skin and was fairly sure his eyes were flashing bright white.

His father was sitting at the table across from him, picture of calm - though Stiles could feel the nervous energy radiating off him. He hadn’t _god_. He hadn’t sat the man down like this since he explained about the supernatural, and he could only guess at what the man was thinking about.

Stiles had no idea how to start, not a clue as to what to say. He knew he had to say _something_ , god there was no way he was going to be able to handle this all on his own - and god, was he on his own - but. But he didn’t want to disappoint his father, not again.

They had been so much closer in the last year, ever since the Darach happened and his dad had found out about the supernatural. Their relationship had been so strained under the weight of his lying that for a while he didn’t think he’d ever have his dad again. But the man had been understanding, listened as Stiles desperately explained why he didn’t tell his father all that was happening, that he had only been trying to keep his dad _safe_. His father had forgiven him, of course, and they had become closer than they were before the supernatural invaded their lives.

He no longer kept secrets from his dad. He couldn’t, _refused_ to and because of that the possession Stiles was under ended so much sooner than it may have. And - well that had him thinking of Peter, how the man had went into his mind and helped him to _dispel_ the Nogitsune. It was something that no one else in the pack even knew happened, and their shared secret - and Peter’s time in his mind - had brought the two much closer.

It was why they started taking more in the first place, really. And Stiles had been wary at first, of course he had. Peter had never been all too friendly to anyone, but Stiles learned to read the man quickly. Peter was scared, and Stiles only saw it because he had seen it in his own eyes for so long after his dad stopped drinking.

He had been so scared to let the man in again, so scared that his dad would leave him alone and Stiles was sure he wouldn’t be able to cope with that happening a second time. So he had kept himself guarded, kept his distance and although it was hard, it felt safer. That’s how Peter looked, too.

Though he did relent, eventually. Months later and the two of them were _friends_ , Peter teaching Stiles all he knew about magic, going out and doing his best to find answers to the things he didn’t already know. They had spent so much time together, their shared interests making it easy to be around one another. Stiles - Stiles had thought they were _pack_ , had thought they -.

Well, whatever he thought was wrong.

And now, now he had to live with that, to live with what he had done. He couldn’t even bring himself to regret it, not when he lo-. _No_ , Stiles swore to himself, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and looking guiltily up at his father. The man was just watching him, though his concern was much more obvious now, especially as Stiles immediately dropped his eyes.

“Kiddo,” His dad said, voice smooth, comforting. It only made Stiles curl up more, terrified of what the man was going to say.

Stiles just shook his head, unable to get the words out. His shoulders were shaking, rocking as he tried to breathe through the tightness of his throat. He - god, he couldn’t even _breathe_ , was crying too hard. He was going to loose his dad, was going to be _all alone_. He just shook his head harder, rubbing at his eyes with his palms and biting at his lip, desperately trying to stop himself from crying.

He heard his father get up but he didn’t react until the man was lifting him from under the shoulders, pulling him close, tight and warm, hugging him to his body.

“I’m sorry, _I’m sorry,_ “ He choked out, falling into his dad's embrace and tucking his face into the man’s chest. Arms came up around him, holding him tight and Stiles cried harder, letting his dad hold his weight.

He hadn’t been hugged like this since he was a child but it felt nearly the same. His dad had always been bigger than life, this imposing figure Stiles had always looked up to. That hadn’t changed over the years, either. Sure, it had dampened when the man had fell victim to his grief, when he hadn’t been able to keep himself together - leaving Stiles to fend for himself.

Luckily the boy had already been a fixture at the station and the deputies he was close with had stepped up, helped out for those first few months. It could have been so much worse if it weren’t for them, if Tara hadn’t been there to put him to bed, Michael not available to take him to the park. By the time his father pulled himself out of the bottle three months had passed and Stiles had recognized - even from the age of eleven - the guilt rimming his father's eyes every time the man looked at him.

But Stiles didn't hate the man for it, not when he came back and refused to leave. Once he had been back, pulled himself out of the bottle he hadn’t left again, and they had been incredibly close ever since. Infact, his dad had let Stiles sleep in his bed for nearly a year after, the boy still having awful nightmares.

So he loved his dad more than anything, always had, and he wasn't sure he would be able to take the man's anger, or worse, his disappointment. He - he wouldn't be able to handle his dad no longer loving him, handle losing the most important person in his life. So he held on tight, looped his arms around his dad's waist and squeezed the man closer.

His dad was still taller, still broader than he was and the man wrapped himself around the boy, making Sites feel small and safe. He grabbed tight at the man's shirt, his cries slowly calming as his father continued to rub circles into his back, holding him equally tight and whispering reassurances into the boys hair.

When he was finally able to breath full he loosened his grip, though he didn’t move back, too scared to face the man when he said what he needed to. He - he was scared of what he would see in the man's eyes.

“Oh kiddo,” His dad said, soft as he exhaled against Stiles forehead, “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“I - I’m pregnant,” He said, and he could almost cry again, _happy_ when his father believed him immediately. He had been so scared for so long that he had lost the man's trust, had lost the bond they had. But, but his dad was _here_ , and his dad _believed him._

“Alright. Alright, we can deal with that. We can deal with it.” And Stiles did start crying then, because that sounded like _acceptance_ , and when his father tightened his hold it felt a lot like love.

The Sheriff let him cry for longer, still supporting most of Stiles weight as the boy just slumped into him. Stiles hadn’t even realized how stiffly he’d been holding himself until he let himself go. He - god, he could hardly believe it. To have his father on his side, to have the man's support? He felt _light_.

His dad held him until he was able to pull away and he wiped harshly at his face, smiling even as more tears fell. God, this was so _real_ now. The confrontation with Scott had been so strange, so far from anything Stiles had ever thought could happen that it hardly felt real at all. If it weren’t for the fact he would now have to fix his window frame he probably could have convinced himself that he had made the whole thing up.

But now, telling his dad? That was real. There was no going back, not anymore, and Stiles wasn't even sure he wanted to. The longer he felt the little spark of energy inside of himself the more attached he got. He wasn’t sure if he would say he loved the thing, but it was _his_ , was going to be a _piece_ of him and - well it was pretty cool.

“So, so how did this happen?” Even as his did asked it the man blushed a little, a high, red tint rising to his cheekbones.

“Oh well, alright. Well so - _god_. Like, how detailed should I go?” Stiles asked and he rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Oh god no. No details at all!” His dad said, eyes going wide as he shook his head and it got Stiles to laugh, giggling at the face the man pulled. His dad smiled in turn and Stiles didn’t think he’d ever been so thankful for the man.

“Uhm, so I had sex. And my magic - well, my magic decided I should have a baby, and sort of - magic-ed a womb?” He explained

“You don’t sound so sure?

“I - really I’m not. I didn’t even know this _could_ happen, let alone that it was going to happen to me.” Stiles admitted, looking down. God, it was so embarrassing, so embarrassing that his _magic_ would do something so serve without his knowledge.

“Wait - you had sex with a boy, yes?” His father clarified - which alright, fair point to make.

“I mean, technically?”

“What do you mean, technically?”

“More so a man?”

“A man, Stiles?” His father asked, voice as unimpressed as Stiles had ever seen it. Stiles just nodded, because it was true and his father sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, “I’m sorry.”

“ _What_ ?” Stiles sputtered, leaning forward in his chair. What the hell was the man apologizing for? Stiles was the one who got knocked up, whose own magic decided to give him a fucking _womb_.

“You - the other year, when I caught you outside the club? I’m sorry I didn’t believe that you were telling me the truth, that I denied your sexuality like that.”

He had to hug his dad again, grinning into the man's shoulder. His father was so _good_ , had always been such a good person. He wasn’t sure why he had been scared, so sure that his father was going to disown him, or kick him out, or spew hatred the way Scott did. No, his father just told him it was going to be okay, believed him and accepted him in turn and Stiles didn't even know how to say thank you as strongly as he meant it.

He let his dad lead him towards the couch and didn’t complain when trashy reality TV was turned on. His father had a thing for watching ridiculous celebrities live their equally ridiculous lives, and while Stiles hated it his father was letting him cuddle close, wrapping a warm arm around his son as they settled back into the couch.

They had sat like that in the quiet for a while. He could tell his dad was thinking instead of watching the show, but he figured he owed the man some time to process everything. The night had already gone so much better than Stiles had ever thought it could and he was so _happy_ , overjoyed that his father was still on his side.

His father was thinking hard on something and Stiles could tell he was warring with himself. Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted to know about what, ad he kept his mouth shut. He let his father come to his own conclusion and his father finally did, speaking softly into the darkness that had settled around them.

“Have you told - _him_?”

“No, no I haven’t,” He admitted.

“The man has a right to know about his own child, Stiles.” His dad said, stern.

“I - yeah, I know.” Stiles muttered.

“He’s already lost so much family,” His dad said, though his tone was considerably more gentle and all Stiles could do was nod. Stiles didn’t even ask how the man had figured it out, knew that his father was the sheriff for a reason.

He had already been thinking about it anyway, ever since he truly let himself accept that he was pregnant, that there was life growing inside him. He just, he just wasn’t sure he was ready to see Peter again, no after - not after that night. The man hadn’t reached out  to him once and it had been well over a month since they had been together.

He - well he knew what he was. Knew he was convenient and accessible and willing, but he hadn’t thought Peter was going to throw away their friendship over it. It made him feel _used_ , dirty, like maybe there was some truth to the things Scott had called him. Honestly, Stiles wasn’t sure if he _would_ be able to tell the man, would be able to face him without breaking down.

He just felt so raw. Open and vulnerable and too weak. Even when he had been sitting in his kitchen, his father watching him with worried eyes, just the _thought_ of seeing Peter was almost too much. He had no idea what he would even do, what he would say. He didn’t want to saddle this on Peter, didn’t want to force the man to take care of a child he may not even want.

Peter certainly didn't want Stiles, that much was clear. But - but it wouldn’t be fair, not after everything the man had been through. So he would, he would tell Peter. But - but not tonight, maybe not even anytime soon.

* * *

Stiles does his absolute best to wait as long as he possibly can to speak with Peter. The man isn’t doing him any favours, hasn’t even _tried_ to contact him once, and he just doesn't care. He can’t, can’t let himself continue to be hurt by the older man, not anymore. Not after nearly two months of _nothing_ , of curling into himself at night, of crying himself to sleep as quietly as he could - though his father is still sending him worried looks in the morning.

After a week his father had offered his own bed and let Stiles curl into his side like he did when he was little, when thoughts of his mother got to be too much or when he was scared his father was going to leave him again. And it helped. Not only was he able to fall asleep much quicker - not lying awake and _thinking_ \- but he was able to sleep through the night.

He’s still glad he told the man. His father had gone through this all before, and was beginning to do things Stiles hadn’t even thought of. He had to cut out caffeine, which was _horrible_ but his father was doing it with him - well, he wasn’t making at home any longer. His father had been watching what he ate, making sure he was eating just a little extra than he normally would.

Neither of them had any idea how a magical-baby-womb worked, but they figured it was better to be safe than sorry.

So he - he waits. He doesn’t think he owes Peter anything, not after the man used him and tossed him aside. If it wasn’t for his father's persistence - and his own damn conscience - he wouldn’t be telling Peter at all.

But, he’s apparently a better person than he thought, or his father really is that convincing, and he finds himself making his way to the floor of Derek’s loft. He has no idea what’s he’s going to say, doesn’t even know if he’s going to be able to make it through the confession without breaking down and that - he doesn't want that.

He doesn’t want Peter thinking what he did hurt quite as much as it did. If Peter doesn’t _know_ , doesn’t know that Stiles still feels dirty, used and lonely, then Stiles can pretend he has the upper hand, that he has something on Peter. It makes it hurt less, that the man has no idea what Stiles is going through. He doesn’t think Peter would be the type to laugh about his misery, but.

He also hadn’t thought Peter would be the type to fuck him then toss him aside.

He knocks on the door before he pulls it open and he has to push some of his magic into the action, the large metal squeaking in protest. It seems that not many people are visiting Derek either, but who would? Erica and Boyd are _gone_ , Scott is an Alpha and Isaac is firmly with the other teen. Allison is a hunter. Other than that, there’s Stiles and unless there’s some sort of supernatural baddie running around he has no need to see Derek

The loft is nearly unchanged, though. When Derek had came back from South America, sans Cora, he had finally bought furniture. Stiles figured the man realized that he was here to say, and even though it wasn’t anything fancy, he atleast had a couch and a coffee table. There had never been a TV, but Derek’s bookshelf was impressive and always growing.

“What are you doing here?” Derek said, his voice more of a growl than Stiles had heard in years.

“I want to talk to Peter,” Stiles said, trying his best to keep his voice steady but it broke over the man's name.

“That, that isn’t a good idea.” Derek said, furrowing his eyebrows. He tilted his head at Stiles as if he could see some hidden meaning to Stiles’ words.

“It’s important,” Stiles tried. He didn’t, he didn’t want to tell Derek. He didn’t want Peter to hear it from anyone other than him, either.

God, he couldn’t even hate the man properly.

“I said no, Stiles.” Derek’s voice was firm, but the man's eyes were uncertain.

“But -”

“Go. Home.” Derek growled, taking a half step forward. Stiles spark was already rising under his skin, ready to act just in case it needed to buy he pushed it down, breathed deep and dropped his trump card.

“I - I’m pregnant,” He said, though his voice dropped to hardly anything more than a whisper. The man's eyes flashed bright blue and he knew he had been heard.

Derek stumbled back a step and his eyes stayed their supernatural blue, his words slurred over his fangs and he tried to scent the air. Stiles knew his magic was covering the scent without his meaning to but he wasn’t sure how to stop.

“You need to leave.”

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself, protectively covering his belly. He hadn’t began to show, not really, but it still brought him comfort to do so. He could feel his eyes burning but he - fuck, he refused to cry in front of the wolf.

“I really need to talk to him, _please_?”

“Don’t - don’t do this to him. He, Peter has done bad things, but this? _He doesn’t deserve this._ ” Stiles thought it may have been better if Derek had been angry, if he’d been growling out the words and throwing Stiles into a wall. But, but he _wasn’t_. He was pleading, all but begging the boy to leave and - and.

Alright. Stiles could tell where he wasn’t wanted. So he nodded, not trusting his voice to be remotely steady. He stumbled his way out of the loft, texting his father, struggling as his vision continued to blur as his eyes welled with tears.

He - _god_ , how could he have been so stupid. He had thought, he had _really_ thought there was something between them, he and Peter. Had thought there friendship was slowly becoming something more, that their simple flirtationship was a two way streak. Maybe - maybe Stiles had just been seeing things when there wasn’t anything there. Maybe he was imagining the whole thing but - but.

That didn’t explain away their friendship, either. That’s what they had been first and then after they had been closer. It had _felt_ like pack, like what the word should mean. He would have done almost anything to keep Peter safe and he was sure - he was so sure.

The elevator dinged and he walked out, wiping harshly at his eyes as he slowly made his way to his jeep. His fingers were shaking, he noticed as he went to grab his keys, so he left them in his pocket. Instead he leaned against the front door, letting his forehead rest against the cool glass as he hugged himself again, tighter.

He felt like he’d been split open and he had no idea how he was still standing. His chest was burning with hurt and he had to bite at his lips to keep from sobbing outright. His face was still wet, his tears having to yet stop. He shook his head, stupid, _stupid_. His knees shook and he braced himself harder against the car, trying to stay upright.

Hadn’t - hadn't he already known no one would want him? He - god he knew his own faults, his peers had made damn sure of that from a young age. He knew he was too weird, too loud and talked to much. He was a spazz, stupid and he took up far too much space. He - he knew he wasn’t exactly attractive. How many damn times had he been told _that_.

But Peter, Peter had always listened, never once complained about the content Stiles had been spewing. He always moved when Stiles’ too-long limbs got out of hand, had become an expert at dodging Stiles’ flailing body. He had always laughed at Stiles’ jokes, no matter how strange they were. And - and Stiles thought the man was attracted to him, at least for that one night.

But, but he wasn’t, and Stiles wanted to scream, to _burn_ the world down at the injustice. He felt like he was being torn apart and when he was pulled into a tight hug, his father wrapping himself around him he lashed out, hitting at the man. He - he needed to be gone, wanted to be alone. How - how, _fuck_.

He cried out, his scream tapering off into a loud sob as he let himself cry, let himself _mourn_ what he thought he had. He, god. He shouldn't have ever been so foolish, shouldn’t have hoped when he had known better. He felt, he felt so _dirty_ , used. He, he wouldn’t say Peter had taken advantage of him, but god if the mans words hadn’t felt nice.

And, and that night. He had thought - Peter had been so _sweet_ , so gentle as he whispering compliments into Stiles’ skin. The memory just made him cry harder, made him want to curl up and never leave. How was he, how was he supposed to continue on when his heart was _breaking inside his chest_.

His dad hugged him tighter and he stopped hitting out, letting the man hold him _again_ and he closed his eyes, pushing his face into his dad’s neck and crying.

He had no idea how he got home. He was pretty sure he had fallen into an exhausted sleep, literally passing out standing up, supported by his dad. His dad who he was curled into, both arms clinging to the man as he slept. He blinked his eyes open, confused. He still wasn’t used to waking up in his dad's bed - but he had to admit he slept better when he did.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do when -

“Oh fuck,” Stiles muttered, sitting up and rubbing a hand down his face as he sighed.

“What’s up kiddo? Wanna tell me what happened?” His dad asked, voice soft as the man rubbed his back. He was supported against a pile of pillows, sitting up more than he was laying down and the TV was muted.

Stiles eyes began to sting with the reminder but - but he didn’t want to tell his dad. Not, not about this. It felt too personal, didn’t seem like something he even should share. And, well it was embarrassing. And yes, it was his _dad_ , but he didn’t want to admit that he had been so, so _foolish_. Had let himself believe that Peter cared about him, was attracted to him.

That maybe the man wanted something more than just a night.

Instead he blinked quickly, pushing down all the hurt that was burning in his chest and said, “I leave in three days.”

God, how had he not realized? Well, alright, he was _pregnant_ . It had been a pretty big blimp in his summer plans, and it was easily understandable how both he and his father forgot about his upcoming departure. But now that he _had_ remembered he was ready to freak out, anxiety already coiling tight in his belly.

He - fuck, he couldn’t go to school pregnant. How was he, how was he supposed to deal with that? He, he was going to start _showing_ at some point. God, was he going to end up stuck in his house for months? He wouldn’t - he wouldn’t be able to _leave his house._ No way would he be able to attend classes either.

And, how would that even impact his degree? He would have to wait a year, and then the baby - _fuck he was having a baby_ \- would be there, and he’d have to take care of it. And it was only him and his dad, and - and -

“Shh,” His dad cooed, pulling him against his chest and hugging him close. It helped, the smell of his dad pulling him out of his near panic and he breathed deep, trying to further calm himself.

“ _God_ , what am I going to do?”

His dad was quiet for a long moment as he continued to rub circles into Stiles back. Stiles just slumped back against the man's side, still tired from his emotional episode earlier. He could hardly keep his eyes open, though it could be that they stung whenever they were open. His dad smelled like home, his aftershave and old spice, pine and gun oil and Stiles snuggled closer, letting the man's hold calm him.

“How far along are you?” His father asked softly, pulling the blanket back up over them.

“Only a little over a month,” Stiles answered and his father hummed, taking another moment to answer.

“Well, if you attend first semester, you _may_ be able to pass. If you wear lots of baggy clothes, layers. Maybe large scarfs?” Stiles laughed softly at the suggestion, but it - well maybe.

“And you’re not doing this alone, kiddo. You’ve got me, alright?” Stiles nodded against the man's collar, squeezing his eyes tight to keep them dry, “And if I have to shoot Hale, well Argent offered to get me bullets.”

Stiles just hugged his dad tighter.

* * *

Moving had been - well it had been hard. Not only did they have to rush to pack, hurriedly gathering up most of Stiles’ life and shoving it into as few bags and boxes as they could, but they had to do it while Stiles was near constantly panicking.. The jeep was large, yes, but it could only fit so much and the mere thought of leaving was hanging heavy over his head.

Packing - packing had been simple. Clothes, yes. Toiletries and towels and bed linens. As many magical books as he _could_ . But, asides from that, asides from the essentials, he didn’t have much. The worst part was that he’d been so _excited_. He couldn’t wait to move away, to gather decorations and make his dorm room his own, to create his own space. Now, now it just didn’t seem to matter, not with everything else that he had going on.

He had then freaked out about having a roommate - how the hell was he supposed to even attend school if he was going to be living with someone else. How - how was he going to hide the pregnancy? What if, what if something happened and somehow the supernatural world got found out and it was _all his fault?_ His dad had to first work him out of his panic then remind him they had paid extra specifically to have a single dorm - that they had figured with his magic and the possible supernatural shenanigans it would just be easier that way.

They’d been right, just not in a way either had ever expected.

He still - even now he could still hardly believe he was pregnant, that there was actually _life_ growing inside him. He felt so young, so wholly unprepared and being away from his dad just made it worse. His dad had been his rock since he told the man, had been the only reason he had been to keep going. He was so thankful for the man, would forever be.

So being away was _hard_ and the first few nights had been the hardest. He woke up screaming, sobbing out and looking for his dad, for _someone_. He, it wasn’t entirely him, either. He could separate his own feelings from that of his spark, his wants from the things his spark wanted. His magic was going crazy, strung tight and kept pulled close to his chest.

And it wasn’t as though it had it’s own mind, but it was like a second consciousness. When he had first explained how it felt, Peter told him it sounded much like his wolf did. And his magic was, it was _longing_ , reaching and finding nothing. Stiles was sure his magic was trying to find the - fuck, the pack bond he had with Peter. He could also feel the other energy, the smaller glow low in his stomach doing the same and Stiles - well Stiles really hoped not having Peter around wouldn’t harm the baby.  

His classes were going good, though. He liked the courses he were taking and so far, at least, he seemed to be doing well. Most of the content he as learning was coming easily. He was reading a lot, his major was English and while he had been expecting it there were just _so many_ books. He had them piled in his dorm, on his desk and his floor and he was only there for the one semester.

But - but he was still having a hard time adjusting. Sleeping without his dad was hard. He had gotten so used to the man being there, so used to the company. He had only realized after he settled at campus that the man must have been taking time off work so he would be home more often. In the moment Stiles hadn’t noticed, too thankful to have someone to offer him comfort when everything just got to be too much. But when he realized he had called his dad crying, thanking him through his tears.

Waking up on his own was hard, but getting back to sleep was harder. His pillows - while plentiful - weren’t the same as he fathers scent. He adjusted, of course, but it had taken nearly a month to be able to get a full night's sleep. At least he wasn’t alone in his exhaustion, it seemed. He certainly didn’t appear to be the only first year having issues when it came to settling in, though he figured no one was else was struggling because they were magically pregnant.

Jesus, he was magically pregnant. It crept up on him sometimes, the knowledge that there was life inside him. It was - well it was amazing to think about, and so wholly terrifying he often chose not to. He had no idea what he was going to do when the baby finally came, how he was going to raise a child. In his second week he had went to registration and got his schedule changed, dropping his second semester courses and moving them to his first semester of the next year.

He figured he was due in April but there would be no way he could attend classes - not with how big he would be. But - but he wasn’t even sure _how_ he was going to handle his second year, not with an infant and being hours away from his dad. He had no idea how it was going to work, how he was supposed to handle any of this. And yes, he had his dad, but he didn't’ have _anyone else._

It was hard to think that without thinking about Peter. Peter - well Peter was still often on his mind. How could he _not_ be? Stiles was literally carrying the man's child and Peter - Peter didn’t want anything to do with either of them. Every time he thought about the spark in his belly, the little bundle of magic and energy he thought of the man. Every time he woke up alone, his spark reaching for something that wasn’t there, he thought of the man. Every time he saw a couple, he thought of the man.

He couldn’t _not_ . Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to lie to himself, not anymore. He knew how he had felt for the man, god, _how he still felt for the man._ It - he knew it was awful of him, horrible to still love someone who caused him so much pain, who hurt him as deeply as Peter did. But, but he couldn’t forget the time they had spent together. Couldn't just cast aside the relationship that they did have.

Because they did have something, friendship, at the very least. He knew he hadn’t made that up, was _certain_. There had been a bond there, a real, tangible pack bond that he only noticed was there once it no longer was, when his magic reached for it and the dead of night. But, but it was gone now, the warmth that had settled in his chest for so long now left him cold.

So he tried to ignore it, to push away the hurt and only leave the anger. He wasn’t mad at Peter for getting him pregnant. He had went into the night fully consenting and that wouldn’t change. He would also never regret getting to be with the man, never regret how _perfect_ his first time was, either.

He just - he just wished the man had cared, at least a bit. He had thought that it was all mutual - that was probably the worst part, that when he had fallen asleep, blissed out and content he had assumed Peter would still be there in the morning. He hadn’t - obviously - and now Stiles was having the mans baby.

That’s what he was angry about. Why - why wouldn’t the man want to know? How could he abandon his child? Stiles _already_ loved the thing, would do anything for it and Peter - Peter didn’t even want to know them. Stiles - Stiles could handle Peter not wanting him. But not wanting their child?

It made anger well up inside him, had his spark flaring bright under his skin. Their child was amazing, was the most perfect thing and it - it wasn’t even in the world yet. How could - how could Peter not want to meet their baby? _Their baby,_ who would grow up not meeting their father, not knowing their dad. And Stiles - well Stiles didn’t want that for his child, but he didn't; want it for Peter either, to not know his own child.

But Stiles, Stiles wouldn't reach out to the man, not now.

He just - he didn’t think about it. Or, well, he tried not to. It usually ended with him wiping angry tears away from his face, having to duck into the nearest washroom until he was able to calm himself down. He was pretty sure it was a side effect of the pregnancy hormones, actually. He had always been a little on the dramatic side, quick to his emotions, but even this was a little much for him.

He would cry at the sight of a cute dog, and he felt utterly ridiculous every time. Not only that but the morning sickness had continued, though thankfully it had calmed down. He wasn’t getting sick everyday, only a handful of times a week though - he was still upset that the smell of _peanut butter_ triggered his gag reflex.

So he was pregnant, and alone, and he went to class. He went to class and he took notes and he delved into his studies. He worked hard, made friends. Which - which had been hard. He had never really made a friend before. Scott didn’t count, since they were _six_. Everyone else, the pack, just sort of fell into his social circle. He had never really been close with them, either.

The summer had shown him he didn’t truly have anyone on his side, that really he could only count on family, on his dad. And he was lucky to have the man, but it was hard not having anyone else. And he had trouble making friends, not used to the simple socialization that people not in the know did. None of his conversations revolved around magic, or werewolves, or mysterious creatures trying to tear apart his town.

It - it wasn’t easy, but it was easier as time went on. By the time second month was ending, he had made a few friends, slowly. He studied with others, went out for coffee and grabbed dinner. He went to parties and on shopping trips, his contact list slowly building a he got more comfortable in his skin. It had been hard, what little confidence he had had been shattered over the summer, left in Peter’s bed.

Being friends with people was - it was strange. He had this whole aspect of his life, this whole entire world he lived in that no one else knew about. Well, he had thought no one else knew about it, until a guy a few years older than Stiles had knocked on his door. Jake was a were, a fox actually, and he had smelled Stiles’ magic.

He had asked the spark to ward his room and they developed a sort of kinship. There weren’t many shifters at their school, maybe a handful and less that of humans in the know. There was a small community, and while Stiles _had_ gone to a few meetings, he just hadn’t enjoyed them? He, he didn’t care about the going ons in the town. it didn’t matter to him. He was more invested in the updates he received from his dad, in what was going on at home.

He was having fun, most of the time. But, but he didn’t let anyone close, couldn’t. He did study a lot, and spent a fair bit of time on his own. He, he found he liked it better than being out with others. His dorm was small, yes, but it was his and he felt most comfortable inside it’s wards. The outside world was - well it was dangerous, Stiles knew that intimately. Normally he wouldn't care, would run head first into danger as he saw it.

Not anymore, though. He couldn’t be so careless, not now. Not when he had a child growing inside him. He did go out, but more often than not he stayed in. It was probably why most of the friends he had made had been superficial. They weren’t people he’d go to in trouble, or vent to. They were all good for spending a few hours with, anyway. But - but he needed time on his own, time to recharge. He wasn’t sue if it was a pregnancy thing, because he had been there very definition of outrovert before and now he found too much socializing beyond exhausting. So he spent a lot of time on his own, but he spent a lot of time talking to his dad as well.

It wasn't the same, god it wasn't the same, but the man always answered when Stiles called. It did help, knowing he would get to speak to his dad every night. Sometimes, sometimes he needed to call his dad just to fall asleep, just to know the man was safe. He had gotten more protective, more cautious since the pregnancy and he couldn’t sleep peacefully unless he knew for certain his dad was going to be okay.

But, but things were good.

He went to class, talked with the friends he made. He spent time in his dorm, studying and reading and watching pointless TV. He talked to his dad and he ate properly and slept well.

And, and he was pregnant.

* * *

Stiles was asleep. Or, he _had_ been asleep, and enjoying it, too. Lisa, a girl from his Brit-Lit course had all but forced him out, dragging him to the mall with a cluster of her friends. They had mostly just sat around, checking out boys. Apparently Stiles’ ass had been _too nice to be straight,_ which, while Stiles that figured made no sense (and was at least a little bit offensive), appreciated the compliment anyway.

He hadn’t begun to show too horribly, and really just looked like he was incredibly bloated. He was still wearing baggy shirts tough, and always pairing them with his father's flannels. They were warm, and while they no longer smelt like him they allowed Stiles to feel closer to the man. He could pass perfectly well, and it was far too soon in the semester for him to start hiding out. So he had spent hours at the mall, and while Stiles did have a good time, it left him exhausted

Which is why he had been sleeping, still. He rolled over, blinking his eyes open as the knock sounded out against his door _again_ . He clicked his phone screen on, staring wide eyed at the time there. God, it - it was three in the morning. _Jesus_ , who the hell could it even be? No wonder he felt so tired. He rolled himself out of bed, his back protesting. His back had been sore for the last two weeks.

Whoever it was knocked again and Stiles sighed, picking up one of his dad's BHSD hoodies and throwing it on. He didn’t have the energy to put on pants, just grumbled and stomped over his day's clothes to get to the door. He swung it open, blinking against the soft light of the dorm's hallway and -

Stiles slammed the door shut. No. _No_ . But, but even as he shook his head, even as he backed up, tripping over his dirty floor and falling to his ass he knew it was true. And then the door was opening and Peter, Peter was - _there_ . Stiles scrambled to stand, his magic _pushing_ as it tried to get to the man, jumping under his skin as it rejoiced.

But Stiles, Stiles just wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head and desperately trying to reel in his spark. His eyes glowed, _he_ glowed, his spark shining brightly enough under his skin that it was illuminating the room. Peter was still standing in front of him, panting hard - chest heaving. Stiles took a step back because - because Peter was in his beta shift, the heavy ridge of his brow hanging over his too blue eyes, ears pointed and sideburns heavy on his face.

“Stiles-” Peter said, but Stiles, no.

“You need to leave,” Stiles said, and he almost laughed when he realized he had echoed the words Derek told him when he went to tell Peter.

He went to tell Peter, but Peter wasn’t there. Just like - just like he _wasn’t_ there when Stiles woke up, left him. // _Used him_ //. And then he wasn’t there, _still wasn’t there_ for months. How - why. Stiles didn’t understand why Peter would be here, why he would be standing there staring at Stiles as if _he_ was in the wrong, is if Stiles did something.

“Is it true?” Peter growled. His beta shift was still marring his features, eyes bright, bright blue and fangs filling his mouth. The question was so reminiscent of how Scott asked all those months ago that Stiles took a step back, arms wrapping tighter around himself and his eyes flashing in defiance. Sparks danced along his shoulders and he shook his head.

No one was going to hurt his child.

“Stiles,” Peter whined, the noise high and pained and Stiles continued to shake his head, eyes burning as he cried, tears steadily running down his cheeks.

“Please,” Peter said, dropping to his knees and hanging his head. He put his hands palm up against his knees and Stiles watched as his claws slowly, slowly receded back into his fingers and his shift fell away, “Please.”

Stiles felt his magic - snap, and the barrier surrounding his body, one had hadn’t even been aware of, fell away. He - he hadn’t even realized he’d been covering his scent, had no idea how long he may have been doing it for. But, but Peter’s eyes flashed blue and he whined again, the noise and Stiles magic urging him forward.

He realized Peter was crying too, that the man was gasping for breath, shuddering through his exhales and Stiles stepped close, placing both hands on the man's shoulders. Peter didn’t look up but he did lean forward until his forehead was resting against Stiles’ belly and Peter cried out, wrapping both arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him close.

Stiles - Stiles just held on, running a hand through Peter’s hair and trying to calm him down. He - fuck, he was so confused, _what was Peter doing here._ He - he didn’t care, right? He couldn’t, not after all this time. Not after - not after he had just left Sites like that. But, but what if - No. No, he couldn’t let himself believe that, not until he knew for sure.

But Peter was rumbling in his chest, the noise more of a purr than anything and Stiles didn’t want it to stop. It was vibrating through his body from where Peter’s chest was pressed against his thighs, the man's face still buried in his stomach even though he did seem to be calming, Stiles fingers still working through his hair.

“Why - why didn’t you _tell_ me?” Stiles had never heard Peter sound so _raw_ before, and it made him pause.

“Der - Derek told me it would be better, if you - if you didn’t know.” Stiles admitted, shrugged his shoulders. The man was looking up at him now, eyes still beta blue though his cheek was now pressed against Stiles’ stomach.

“You’re my mate, Stiles,” The man said, as if that wasn’t - wasn’t. Fuck, he said it so casually, as if that didn’t change everything.

“But - but then why, why would you _use me?_ ” His voice broke at the end and he started crying again, but Peter held him tighter and Stiles was again holding onto Peter’s shoulders, this time to keep himself upright. He couldn't - he couldn’t.

“What are you talking about?”

“You - in the morning. You, you left me there. You - you,” Stiles couldn’t even finish the thought as his knees gave out. Peter lowered him to the floor, though, and tucked Steals against his chest.

He - fuck, he wasn’t even sure he _wanted_ to be hugged, didn’t know if he wanted Peter to hold him, but it felt so _right_ , and he had no idea if that was him or his magic, or, or being Peter’s mate. Fuck, _fuck_ he knew what that meant. But - but if he was, then why, why would he have stayed away? It would have just hurt him, would have just been hard for _Peter_.

“Darling,” Peter said, but it was painted, again more of a whine than a word and he hugged Sites impossibly closer and the next words were whispered into his hair, “I went to get us breakfast.”

“No, _no_ ,” Stiles tried, but Peter just nodded his head and Stiles, Stiles - “Then why didn't you even call me!”

“I thought you had decided you didn’t want me. It - All I could smell was your panic, the regret and I thought, thought you were rejecting me, my _mate_ ,” Peter said low, voice still raspy. He nuzzled into Stiles neck

And that, that had Stiles laughing. It was a bitter, desperate thing that _hurt_ . All - all this time it had been a - a misunderstanding? The, all the nightmares, and the sleepless night? It could have all been avoided if Stiles hadn’t - Shit. It was mostly his fault, probably. If he had just waited, hadn't let his insecurities creep in and take over, hadn’t been so _stupid_.

_They could have been together._

“But, but why would Derek tell me to stay away?” Because that - that didn’t make any sense.

“The scent - the scent was hidden at first. He - he probably thought it was _someone else’s_ baby,” Peter’s voice had dropped into a growl, and Stiles had to admit the little bit of possessiveness was hot, just a little.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, holding to Peter even tighter, scared that maybe - maybe he was still sleeping.

“No, no darling. You have nothing to be sorry for!”

“I love you,” Stiles admitted, and Peter pulled back, warm hands cupping Stiles’ face and he stared into the boys eyes for a long moment, “I love you.”

“Let me make you feel good,” Peter muttered, leaning in to kiss Stiles slow and sweet, pulling back to nuzzle back into the boy's neck, gently nipping at the skin.

“Peter - Peter you _broke my heart_ ” The protest was weak, Stiles knew. He was already getting hard, his cock twitching in his briefs and Peter ran his hand up Stiles’ bare thighs, squeezing and groping at the flesh, encouraging the boy to move his legs and wrap them around his waist.

“You broke mine, too” Peter admitted as he stood, and Stiles just nodded, leaning forward to press their lips together again.

It was sweet, at first, but then Peter was lowering them to the bed, gently climbing atop the boy and opening his mouth, twisting their tongues together and biting at Stiles lips. Stiles arched into the kiss, pressing himself firmer against Peter and roaming with his hands, _desperate_.

It felt like a dream, and Stiles could hardly believe it was happening when Peter lifted off his hoodie, pulling at his erection through his briefs. They - god, they were batman, and his erection was straining against the yellow bat symbol on the front. He covered his eyes with his hands and laughed, trailing off into a low moan when Peter bit at his neck, pulled the skin into his mouth and _sucked_.

Stiles didn’t have any lube, but that didn’t seem to matter to the wolf. Instead, Peter pulled off his own shirt, wiggling out of his pants and standing there in nothing else. He - god, he was even more attractive than Stiles remember. Miles of smooth, muscled skin. He had hair on his chest now, hair thick around his cock and Stiles realized for the first time that his beard had grown in, his hair longer than the boy had ever seen it.

He looked - he looked so different, Stiles had no idea how he hadn’t noticed at first either. It must have been the shock of seeing the man but now - now Peter looked softer. Stiles raised his arms in welcome, making grabbing motions with his fingers and giggling when Peter complied.

The longer beard was soft and Stiles petted at it, the man lying between Stiles thighs and allowing the boy his time to play. He leaned in for a kiss and Stiles accepted, groaning when Peter lined up their bodies and further settled his weight on Stiles, their erections brushing together.

Stiles barely had time to think, let alone call up his spark but he just had enough mind to magic up lube, wetting his hand and bringing it between them, grasping at himself and then he and Peter together, moaning at the feel of the mans cock.

God he- he wanted _more_ , but this, this was more than enough for tonight. He panted into the man's mouth, brain fuzzy and far away as he rutted upwards, Peter’s body keeping him from moving too far. He ran his free hand down Peter’s back, digging in nails in and scratching. Peter growled and he moved down to bite and suck at Stiles’ nipples and the boy spasmed, his balls tightening and his orgasm shooting out of him.

“Good boy, so good for me,” Peter panted, the first words either of them had said. He swiped his hand through Stiles come and brought his hand to his own dick, both his and Stiles’ hand rubbing him to completion.

When Peter came it was with his face planted in Stiles’ neck, a high whine leaving his throat and he slumped forwards after, falling to the side but keeping himself close, holding Stiles to his chest. Stiles laughed when the man started rubbing his cum into Stiles’ belly, the sound lighter than he had heard from himself in a long time and Peter looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re mine,” He said, and Stiles couldn’t argue. It was true, had been true for far too long now.

“Who even told you?” Stiles said, Peter’s head still pillowed on his chest. The man had only moved to grab his own t shirt, wiping their release from both of them before it dried. He had then laid back down, wrapping himself around Stiles’ side and pulling the blanket over them.

Stiles had hugged him back, kept him close but had ran a hand through the mans longer hair. He liked it, this look. If anything it made Peter look older, sure, but he definitely had a daddy vibe going on that Stiles’ could certainly get down with.

“Your dad shot me, actually.”

“ _What_?!”

“Told me to get my act together and stop breaking his boys heart before the baby came,” Peter said, voice still soft in the dark room, “You can imagine my surprise.”

Stiles just hummed in response. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to tell the man.

“You know, this is all your fault, right?”

“All my fault?” Peter asked, incredulous.

“Of course! You should have just called me!” Stiles pointed out, trying not to laugh at the put-upon face Peter was pulling.

“You shouldn’t have left!” Peter argued.

“You left first!”

The man was silent for a moment, before he finally grumbled something Stiles couldn't hear, though he held on tighter and Stiles was pretty that meant agreement.

“Just, just don’t leave me,” It was soft, and a request more than a demand but Stiles nodded either way, pressing a long kiss to the man's forehead and holding him closer.

That, that he could do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all I was trying to do was work on this damn fic and it dissolved into questionably kinky strange sex????? where did watersports come from?!?!?!? 
> 
> I have added a warning before the scene, so if you want to read the rest of the fic and just skip the 380 words of unplanned kink, go ahead!
> 
> also fair warning, this is not an accurate home birthing scene. do not try this at home _please_

Stiles rolls over, blindly trying to get to his phone and turn off of his alarm. He slaps his hand down and hits - huh. He moves his hand without opening his eyes, poking and pulling at the beard he finds. Peter grumbles and snatches Stiles hand away, though he places a kiss to the palm before resting it on his chest. Peter turns - and Stiles can feel the bunching of his muscles as he does so - and slides the alarm off, turning back and pulling the boy tight to him.

Stiles - Stiles isn’t sure he’s not dreaming. He’s hesitant to let himself believe that Peter is really there. He’s had dreams like this countless times only to wake up cold and alone, reeling from the loss. It - it would hurt too much for it to be all a dream or worse, for Peter to change his mind. He - Stiles isn’t sure he would be able to handle it, not with how the brightness low in his belly is rejoicing at the man's presence.

“Sweetheart, what has your scent souring?” Peter asks softly into the darkness of the room, moving away and lying flat on his back, though he leaves a hand settled on Stiles’ hip.

“Please don’t leave me,” Stiles says, and he knows he’s echoing the man's words but he can’t help but feel vulnerable.

It feels like Peter has all the power. Stiles is aware that if Peter were to decide to leave it would break Stiles’ heart. And sure, these last few months were _hard._ Stiles hurt more often than not and sometimes it felt like he couldn't _breathe_. But to have Peter? To have him for a night, to be so close and then to lose him? He’s - he’s not sure what that would do to him.

“God, I could _never_ ,” Peter swears, the smallest growl in his voice.

And Stiles knows what it means to be Peter’s mate. He knows - at least academically - what it would feel like for the wolf, what it must have already been like. He sees what Peter looks like now. The untamed hair, long beard. Even his body hair wasn’t groomed to the same standard it once was and thinking about it, he can remember the dark bags under the man's eyes.

That - that helps, makes him feel like maybe he won’t be the only one hurt if things go to hell. It’s also enough for him to roll over, though he doesn’t yet look Peter in the eye. Instead he rests his head on the man's shoulder. He runs his hands through the man's chest hair, tugging softly at the strands. There’s a thick patch in the centre though it tapers out near Peter’s nipples, then trails down the centre of his abdomen and thickens into a happy trail.

The comforter is covering anything else but Stiles knows they're both still naked - though he doesn’t find himself as turned on by the information as he thought he might. Instead he lifts a leg and settles it over’s Peter’s, knee high on the man's thigh and curls further into the man's warmth. The arm Stiles is lying on wraps around his waist, settling wide on his hip bone and holding him close.

This - this is right. His spark feels settled in a way it hasn’t in so long, calm under his skin. The pack bond they had, the almost formed mate bond, is once again shining brightly inside him, present in his chest. He can feel how the babies energy is reacting, jumping and flashing brightly, latching onto the bond and drawing energy from it.

It makes Stiles smile and snuggle closer, placing an open mouthed kiss to whatever skin he can reach. He’s beyond comfortable and he can feel sleep trying to pull him under but he’s determined to stay in the moment, to soak up the warmth of Peter, the comfort of having their pack bond back.

There is so much they still need to say, so much they need to work through. Stiles isn’t ignorant to that - is fully aware of the challenges the may soon be facing as a couple. But for now he’s warm, and Peter feels so good against him, holding him. Stiles can feel the man nosing at his temple and inhaling deeply, the warm air tickling his brow. Stiles sighs, wondering how either could have been so stupid.

It - it seems so clear now, that morning from months ago. God, of course Peter hadn’t just walked away, hadn't just left Stiles alone in his apartment. He - the man had folded his clothes, plugged in his phone. Hell, if he remembered correctly - and he does, has never been able to forget one detail of that morning - Peter had even placed his shoes neatly at the front door. God, he feels like an idiot. Of course, Peter _could_ have left a note, or sent a text but - there is no way he would have known how Stiles’ may have reacted.

But - but maybe it’s okay, because at least they’re here now, together.

The alarm goes off again, and this time Stiles’ sighs heavily, rolling onto his back. He knows he has plenty of time before he actually has to get ready for class - but he tries to keep his sleeping consistent. He can no longer stay up until all hours of the night and then run off copious amounts of caffeine. One, he’s pregnant, so no caffeine, and two, well again, no caffeine. Stiles watches Peter stand, letting out the loudest wolf whistle he can as the blanket drops away. Peter wiggles his ass at him and Stiles laughs - bright.

“Is there anywhere I can take you for breakfast around here?” Peter is pulling up his briefs and Stiles is finding it very hard to look away from the flec of the man’s thigh as he does so. It takes him a moment to answer.

“Why?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes. He sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, keeping the blanket pooled around his waist.

“Well, I think it’s about time I took you on a date, don’t you?” Peter raises a brow at him and Stiles snorts.

“You already knocked me up, dude. Don’t you think it’s a little late?” Stiles says, grinning as he teases the wolf.

Peter’s whole face softens at that and he steps forward, settling between Stiles’ legs and gently cupping the boys face, drawing him into a slow, sweet kiss. Peter lets it linger but he doesn’t deepen it, instead presses a series of short kisses to the boys lip, pulling off with one to the nose. Stiles smiles once Peter pulls back and pulls the man back in by the hips, blowing a raspberry into the man's stomach and dissolving into giggles at Peter’s affronted look.

It’s - it’s so easy. And Stiles knew it would be, had always imagined them being together in this way. Their friendship had been so natural, so playful, that he isn't surprised their - relationship? - is much the same.

“Well I guess I could let you buy me breakfast. You _are_ my baby daddy, after all.” Stiles says, as Peter pulls on pants. He - he should get up, but watching Peter get dressed is for more interesting that it should be.

“Stiles,” Peter says serious. The man squats and pulls Stiles forward with a hand to his nape, resting their foreheads together, “I hope I can be much, much more than that. If you’ll let me.”

“Yeah,” Stiles says on an exhale, eyes glowing bright white in response to Peter’s, “Yeah, I hope so too.”

* * *

“What now?” Stiles doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to break the little bubble they’ve been hiding away in but he knows it’s an important question.

It turned out Peter had driven up to campus right after he had found out what was happening via bullet in the leg. It had taken him only three hours to make it to Stiles’ campus even though it was closer to a five hours drive. Peter’s car was small, a sporty thing that made Stiles’ snort. Apparently, it had been in a paid parking garage and Peter just hadn’t a reason to use it in Beacon Hills.  

Peter really had taken them for breakfast and Stiles more than enjoyed their time. He didn’t think he would like it when Peter held the door, or pulled out his chair, but instead of feeling emasculated he felt warm, having to bite his lip to keep off his ridiculous grin. Not only that but Peter had insisted on paying, not even allowing Stiles to split the bill.

Stiles knew what Peter’s instincts must be saying, the need he would have to care and provide for his mate, especially after so long apart. So Stiles allowed it, sending the man a small smile. After breakfast Peter had insisted they go for walk and he immediately took Stiles’ hand in his own, bumping their shoulders together and sending the boy a smile.

Stiles wasn’t sure what to do with this new side of Peter. Snarky, sarcastic Peter he could handle. But soft, hand holding and door opening Peter? Stiles wasn’t sure if it was the pregnancy hormones but he felt _so much_ for the wolf, much more than he knew what to do with. He was also incredibly fond of the mans new look - of the longer hair and the thicker bead. Peter looked more like a dad and Stiles was pretty sure that it was inappropriate how much that turned him on.

It had, like it always used to, scared him - just how much he felt for Peter. But Peter hadn’t let him up from under his arm once, hadn’t let go of Stiles’ hand and he was beginning to actually believe that maybe, _maybe_ it was mutual. And, and he knew Peter was telling the truth about being mates. Ever since he’d first woken he could feel their stronger bond, the second layers to it. It was beautiful where it glowed in his chest and it made him smile to himself every time he poked or prodded at it, his magic and the babies magic rejoicing in its feel.

Stiles smiled and leaned more into the man's side, resting his weight against Peter. Peter tucked him close and inhaled at his temple, rubbing his beard into Stiles’ skin. He wrapped an arm around the man's waist and let himself drown in the scenery of the park. It was quiet - Wednesday mornings usually were - and Stiles was more than enjoying their walk.

“Just come over here, alright?” Peter said, pulling Stiles with him.

The boy looked up and up at the building in front of them. It wasn’t far from the coffee shop and Stiles recognized it from campus, with how tall it stood.

“Peter, that’s an apartment,” Stiles protested even as Peter pulled him closer and closer to the apartment's front door.

“Correction, my dear. That’s _our_ apartment!” Peter was far too happy, and Stiles wasn’t sure if he had ever seen the man so genuinely pleased.

“Peter, what are we doing,” he asked, Peter already pulling him through the front doors and into the grand lobby.

“Hopefully, coming home?” Peter said, pulling Stiles further into the lobby before turning to look at the boy, staring down at him and smiling softly, walking backwards.

Stiles just gaped up at the man, staring wide eyed even as he continued to be led. He didn’t - god how was he even supposed to respond to that. They had one night together, _one_ before yesterday and Stiles had no idea what to make of what Peter was asking him. Was Peter even asking him that? They - could he be serious?

“Let me show you?” Stiles was helpless to do more than nod. He let Peter drag him forward, waiting with the man in front of the elevators. The lobby was large, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and couches along the waiting room.

They were quiet on the way up, though Peter had pulled him close chest to back and Stiles leaned into the support easily, soaking up the warmth that was Peter’s body. It felt so natural, to me so close to the man. He had never regarded Peter to be especially touchy, but he had seen the other wolves, knew how they all acted.

So it made sense that Peter was being so affectionate, at least now that the man was sure of his welcome.

“When - When I first learned you had decided to come to school here I had bought an apartment.” Peter said softly into his ear, holding the boy closer. “I had wanted to surprise you with it, ask you to move in with me.”

“I may have been a little rash with that idea,” Peter continued, snorting though Stiles could sense the displeasure in the noise. “I was going to tell you you were my mate, ask you to be with me.”

Stiles turned then, hugging Peter close as well and resting his head on the man's shoulders. He wasn’t sure what he should say, what he could say but the elevator dinged and the doors slid open - Peter grabbing a key from the floor panel Stiles hadn’t even seen him put in, Peter gently untangling them to move forward. Stiles turned to step into the hallway and - there wasn't a hallway.

Instead there was a set of double doors, a keypad and card swiper beside the right handle. The doors were large with intricate patterns carved into the wood and there was a light sitting above, casting a soft glow. Peter stepped forward and Stiles watched with openmouthed awe as Peter typed something into the keypad before pulling out a card and swiping it through the machine, pushing open the two doors with as much dramatics as the wolf could.

“Peter, did you buy the _whole floor_?” Stiles asked, though his voice came out high pitched and breathy.

“Technically I bought the penthouse suite. It just happened to be the whole floor. At first i had looked into the floor below us, which holds the sub-penthouse, but they were not nearly as nice.”

“What - why, why would you need so much space?” Stiles turned to Peter, not yet entering the - the _floor_.

“I was hoping it could be for us? For our family?” Peter was holding him from behind again, though this time the man settled big hands over his belly, cupping the growing bump.

Stiles lent backward, closing his eyes and breathing out, settling his hands over Peter’s own. Stiles wanted to say yes so, _so bad_ . It felt so right, so good. He wanted to be with Peter, to _be_ Peter’s and of course he wanted a family together, hell they were already on their way. But this? This seemed so big! Stiles stepped forward, staring around with wide eyes before turning back to Peter.

His eyes were already watering, that he could tell and he was overcome with affection for the man before him. He opened his arms and pulled Peter close, tangling his fingers in Peter’s hair and pulling him closer, pressing their lips together.

So, so happy.

* * *

Packing up his dorm isn’t a long process. He hadn’t brought much to begin with, stressed and short on time. He had been far too emotional to properly focus on what he was bringing and although he managed to bring everything he _needed_ , now that he was moving out there were certainly things he wanted.

He looked around and couldn’t help the little smile that came over his face. Everything was repacked into a series of boxers lined up next to the door and he couldn’t help but feel almost giddy with his excitement. Peter had stayed with him so far, helping Stiles pack and then doing more while he was away at classes, sharing space whenever he wasn’t. Peter had continued to take them for breakfast, though he had also insisted on bringing Stiles lunch and buying them dinner.

Apparently, Peter was trying to make up for all the time they missed, going on as many dates as they could in the short period of time they had been together. It had only been a week since that first night and Stiles could hardly believe the turn his life had taken, how _different_ everything already was.

Their bond had only continued to grow and with it Stiles’ magic. It wasn’t so much that he had been having issues with his control, but his spark had been reacting so strongly for months now. It seemed calmer with it’s mate around - the term would _always_ surprise a happy little half grin onto Stiles’ face.

They had yet to have sex again, but Stiles was fine with it, enjoying the time they were taking to rebuild the easy relationship they had. The first few days Peter had seemed almost - cautious around Stiles, as though he were carefully treading. Stiles thought it was ridiculous, since it was obviously _both_ of them who had been in the wrong, both of them who should be begging for forgiveness.

They had both made mistakes, and as much as the months apart _hurt_ \- hurt both of them as Peter had told him - they were together now. There were together, but they were also _good_ together, rounded each other’s sharp edges and fit together nicely. That had to count for something.

It was why Stiles had walked himself over to the apartment, backpack heavy on his shoulders. It was near a twenty minute walk, to their - _their_ \- apartment, and although it wasn’t too long his feet hurt in his fourth month of pregnancy. It didn’t help that he’d been getting a lot less sleep since Peter showed up.

Getting into their apartment was almost a little ridiculous, but Stiles couldn’t deny it made him feel safer knowing it was a hassle to get in. Stiles had to swipe a card to get into the apartment lobby, then he had to use a key - oddly long and curved at the end - once he was inside the elevator to even press their floor button. Once he was on their floor there was a _second_ key card he had to swipe, then they four digit code into keypad before they door to their apartment will open.

When Peter had first told him the four digit security code Stiles had teared up - something he was doing regularly with all the pregnancy hormones _taking over his mind_ \- and held the man close for a long time. Considering the new side of Peter he was expecting something relatively cheesy, but the man had outdone himself. The code was the day Peter had went into his mind, had banished the Nogitsune from his consciousness before it had a chance to do any damage.

It was the day their friendship had started, the subtle truce between the two growing strong. Stiles was happy to remember the day, to remember how much his perception of the older wolf had changed. It wasn’t as though Peter could go into Stiles’ mind and be untouched himself - and because of that Stiles had seen into the man's mind.

He had seen the guilt that hung heavy, the horror of losing nearly his entire family in one go, the regret that still lingered around Laura’s death. He got to see what Peter used to be like, and sure, maybe he was never perfect but he wasn’t close to the evil thing they all thought him to be.

So Stiles liked that Peter had picked that day to remember, and it made him smile as he typed it in. He swiped his key card next, pushing open the double doors and biting down on a grin. God, he could hardly believe this was _his_.

Most of the boxes were still at his dorm but they were moving all that this weekend - for now Stiles had packed away just enough clothing and his toiletries, bringing as well what he needed to do his school work. He looked around for another moment, still surprised with just _how large_ the first room was.

It was the main room, the kitchen to the left - shiny and new and beautiful - and the living area was too the right - plush chairs and couches and a beautiful entertainment system. Further in there was a dining room set, and opposite that two desks in a sectioned off area - an ‘office’ with a open view of the rest of the apartment. The only thing set aside were the three bedrooms and one of the washrooms - the other connected to the master bedroom.

Stiles set himself up at the kitchen island. The counter was nice, a white marble that went well with the black cupboards. The whole apartment was sleek, modern. He took a deep breath before he opened his laptop and clicked around, pulling up his Skype.

 _“Stiles - where are you?”_ his dad’s voice rang out of his laptop speakers.

“Surprise?” he tried, keeping his voice light.

 _”Kiddo, what do you mean_ surprise _?”_

“Well, look who ca-” Stiles turned the computer and pointed the webcam to where Peter was walking out of the bedroom in a pair of sweats. “Okay, to be fair, I assumed he would be wearing a shirt”

Peter’s head popped up and his eyes widened as though he _didn’t_ have supernatural hearing and the wolf turned on his heel, hightailing it back into the bedroom and slamming the door shut behind him. Stiles just laughed at the wolf's antics and turned the screen back to himself, smiling down.

 _”Kiddo,”_ his dad’s voice was soft and he was looking through the screen with softer eyes and Stiles’ smiled turned into something smaller to match.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, swallowing heavily. “Yeah.”

_”So, does this mean you won’t be coming home during the next semester?_

“I - I haven’t even thought of that but I don’t thi-” Stiles stuttered over his answer, unsure.

In truth, neither of them really _had_ discussed that far into the future. Sure, they had both recognized the mistakes they had each made, realized how foolish their actions had been. They had talked about themselves as a couple and that yes, they both wanted to be together and were both expecting to be together for a very long time. But - but Stiles had been hesitant to bring up the pregnancy.

It was something he shied away from thinking about in general, if he were honest with himself. It was still so surreal, and while he had come to accept the growing life inside himself, had grown to _love_ them, it was still something he didn’t often think about. He had school and midterms were coming up and he was _busy_ , taking more classes than he needed to in hopes of making up for the classes he would be missing next semester.

“Stiles is welcome to stay here, this is his home as much as it is mine.” Peter said, walking into the room. He had changed into his typical too-low v-neck though he had began wearing coomfrotable, knitted sweaters over them.

Stiles turned in the barstool he was sitting on, pulling Peter close and into a soft kiss once he was close enough - not caring one bit about his dad watching. He had grown up around similar shows of affection, his parents never shying away from showing how much they cared for one another. Stiles never doubted their love and he was similarly affectionate with Peter, maybe even more so since the wolf was so touchy himself.

Stiles nuzzled into Peter’s neck with a smile, still holding the wolf close even as he mumbled into the skin, “Guess I’m staying here.”

“You’re always more than welcome, Sheriff.” Peter offered, rubbing a hand down Stiles’ back, running his fingers under the shirt and pulling away some of the pain. It was nothing more than a dull ache but Stiles appreciated it nonetheless.

 _“I’d think my son-in-law should call me John.”_ Stiles startled at that, going to pull away but Peter continued to hold him close.

“Son-in-law?” Stiles squeaked.

 _”I’m expecting Hale to make an honest man out of you, kiddo.”_ His dad said and Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes.

“I assure you John, in time.”

“In time?!” Stiles shouted, reaching for Peter as the wolf turned to walk away - nearly falling out of his chair, “Peter are you planning on proposing?!”

* * *

Stiles was trying not to freak out but - okay he was totally freaking out. He was re-reading a few of his magical texts, trying to find any more information he possibly could about what was going on. Being magically pregnant was one thing, but giving birth? Yeah that was going to be a thing on it’s own, since, ya know it wasn’t possible.

But - but apparently it was, if what he was reading was anything to go by. Peter had gotten him more books, the man searching in his free time and trying to find _anything_. There hadn’t been a recorded spark in years so it was hard to find credible sources. A lot of what Stiles had first learned from was centuries-old notebooks and journals written by sparks.

Peter had been able to find a few more, though Stiles wasn’t even going to ask how much the man had paid for them - or _if_ he had paid for them. Of course he knew Peter dabbled in rare objects, but he wasn’t sure if the man made any money from it. Perhaps he traded?

EIther way, Stiles no had several new notebooks and _two_ had accounts of male pregnancies. It - it was calming to read, to know that he was going through was at least somewhat ‘normal’, and if not normal had happened before. Plus he felt better having more than one source of information, especially when everything matched up.

And - well. Some of the information he was reading was startling, if not all together concerning. He had no idea his magic could do that, could change so much. That - it was more than he had been expecting, more than he knew he was capable of.

And - and he was worried. Everything had read said that his magic would sort it all out, that his magic was now bonded with the baby and wouldn’t let anything happen to it. Which was true, Stiles could _feel_ the way his own spark reacted to the bundle of energy inside of him, knew that along as his spark was flickering in his chest _nothing would_ be able to hurt it.

Just, putting that much blind faith into his body was frightening, to trust his magic so wholeheartedly without any actual proof. He had books, sure, but that was it, and it was scary. He had talked to Peter about it and the man was confident all would work out, that worse case scenario Peter could cut the baby out. Stiles knew enough healing spells that worse case, he could keep both he and the baby alive, but.

He - jesus fuck, he was going to give birth.

* * *

Stiles arched his back, brain still sleep addled even as he tightened his fingers in the sheets, twisting the fabric in his fists. He lifted his hips up, searching, wanting more. Peter’s mouth was hot around his cock, wet as the wolf sucked him down. Stiles felt his head hit the back of Peter’s throat, felt the muscles tighten around his dick and he moaned low, the noise ripping out of him.

He - he wasn’t going to last, didn’t have any idea how long Peter had been going down on him before he had woken. He slapped at Peter’s shoulder, pulling at his arm the best he could until Peter got the message and gave up his arm, lifting it and settling his palm low on Stiles’ belly. Stiles wove the fingers together, one hand gripping at Peter and the other at the sheets as he tried not to thrust up.

Peter was so, so warm around him and Stiles cried out when the man tongued at his slit. That - oh god that felt good and Peter did it until Stiles was coming, his balls drawing up tight as his head snapped back into the pillows. He shook through it, thighs shaking where Peter’s elbows lay rested on him and his belly quivered as Peter continued to suck, the sharp bite of pleasure turning too bright with his oversensitivity.

“Come here,” Stiles mumbled, words far more slur than intelligible, his entire body relaxing into the bed, _their_ bed even as Peter climbed over him.

Peter settled his weight over Stiles and the boy smiled lazily, wrapping his arms around his wolf and kissing him softly. One hand tangled in the longer hairs at the back of Peter’s neck while the other drifted lower still, wrapping around Peter’s cock. He smoothed down the man's’ foreskin, exposing the head and rubbing a thumb over the sensitive skin, Peter bucking forward into the contact.

The wolf leaned on one elbow, the other twisting into Stiles’ hair and tugging, exposing the boys throat and planting his face, breathing in deep. Stiles smiled, combing through the hairs at the back of Peter’s neck even as he continued to stroke the man's cock, firm in his grip, still playing over the head and gathering the precome there to slick his way. Peter was _leaking_ and Stiles couldn't help but find it hot.

“Come for me baby, come _on_ me,” Stiles said softly into the room and Peter growled, thrusting into Stiles fist, head pumping into the scratchy hairs at Stiles’ crotch.

“ _Mine_ ,” Peter growled, cock jumping in Stiles’ hand as warm cum flooded onto his belly, the wolf whining through his orgasm.

Peter flopped onto the bed beside him, curling up around Stiles body and Stiles smiled over softly, laughing when Peter began to rub his release into Stiles skin, though he did suck Peter's fingers into his mouth when they were offered to him, smirking around them when Peter sucked in a sharp breath.

“I love you,” Peter said on an exhale before he tensed, body going stiff.

They hadn’t said it since that first night, and although following orgasms with love declarations was entirely cliche, Stiles rolled over, pulling Peter close and holding the man tight, burying his face into the man's chest and saying it back.

* * *

“Stiles, you _have_ to come! You haven’t been out with any of us in days!” Lisa cried, throwing up her arms.

“I know, I know. And I do appreciate the invites but I’m so bus-”

“No! No we are going bowling and you coming!” Lisa cut him off, throwing her hands up and not budging, so Stiles sighed, relenting.

“Alright, alright. But who's going?”

“Me and Jason, Jackie and that guy she’s been seeing? You remember him right? Anyway, I think Emily is also coming with Nick,” Lisa rattled, ticking off names on her fingers.

“Oh great, I’m going to be surrounded by couples.” Stiles mumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the girl.

“Well, we were thinking of inviting Liam, so maybe you two cou-”

“No. Lisa, _no_. I have zero interest in Liam, you know that.” Stiles voice was dry, like it had been every time they tried to set him up Liam. It wasn’t that the boy was unattractive, but Stiles couldn’t help that he was into - uh, older men.

“Stiles, he’s cute!”

“No Lisa, you think he’s cute, I think he looks like an overgrown child Look how about -” Stiles was already regretting it, already cringing at the thought but it had already been said, the words already leaving his mouth and it was too late. “I bring my boyfriend?”

“Stiles,” Lisa said, face entirely too serious for the conversation they were having. “Don’t tease me like this. You better not be joking.”

“Nope, I’m not,” Stiles sighed, resigned. He couldn’t believe he did that.

Peter was going to kill him.

Peter didn’t kill, obviously, but he wasn’t happy. The man had protested the event, stating the _bowling_ with humans seventeen years his senior was not his idea of a good time. Stiles could understand that, of course, but he also thought Peter maybe needed to get out of the house.

He had no idea what the man did for money and was a little cautious to ask. It was either something illegal, something regarding the supernatural, or he didn’t and was living off the insurance of his dead family. There was only one good option there and those odds were not in his favour.

So he dragged Peter to the bowling alley, the man grumbling all the way though he did wear his tightest pair of jeans and a snug fitting shirt. Stiles certainly wasn’t complaining about the chance to show off his hot, hot boyfriend. He pushed the older wolf through the doors of the bowling alley, ignoring the man's annoyed grumbling and instead taking a moment to stare at Peter’s ass. The pants _were_ tight.

The alley was loud - and Stiles took a moment to wonder just how loud it would have been for Peter. By the grimace on the wolf’s face, it was hard on his enhanced hearing. Stiles did wince in sympathy and darted forward for a kiss, lingering just a moment before twirling and pulling Peter with him.

He told the clerk they were meeting friends and hate to wait for Lisa to come bounding down to collect the, all blonde hair and energy and pink lipstick. The girl smiled wide, something sharp to the grin when she spotted Peter, her pace quickening.She threw her arms out and Stiles braced himself for when she all but jumped into the hug, laughing in his ear.

“He is _hot_ ,” She said into his ear, and Stiles had to withhold a laugh, knowing it had been heard.

“Yeah he is,” Stiles agreed as he stepped back, stepping back from the hug and into Peter’s personal space, smiling softly at the wolf.

“Nice to meet you!” Lisa said bright and clear, holding out her hand.

“Stiles has told me much about you, I’m Peter.”

“Lisa! Come, come! Everyone is upstairs!”

Stiles followed helpless, keeping his hand firmly in Peter’s, fingers intertwined as he tugged the wolf with him. Lisa was as excited as ever, the prospect of meeting someone new - Stiles’ boyfriend at that - giving her an extra boost.

The lane they were in was on a far side and there were a few empty lanes next to theirs. While the place was still loud it was a little calmer where they were and Stiles was thankful for it. He placed his shoes atop a chair he was claiming as his own, sending a smile to the group already there before turning to Peter and pushing some of his magic at the wolf, blocking out a little of the excess noise. He smiled when Peter stumbled to a stop, not expecting the blast of magic or dampening of his senses.

He tugged Stiles close and Stiles went, leaning up for another soft kiss and smiling into it when Peter’s hand predictably settled over the curve of his ass and squeezed, always one to show off in public. Stiles pulled back, ready to reprimand when Nick’s voice rang out.

“Uhm, you bought your dad?” Nick said, staring at the two with his brows drawn forward.

“ _Nick_!” Emily hissed, elbowing her boyfriend hard.

Stiles had to admit he liked her, maybe more than Lisa. Emily was - calmer of the two friends. While Lisa was constant energy, Emily was a calm presence, always there. They had gotten along well, bonding in their shared World Culture’s class. Emily had commented on the bisexual sticker on Stiles’ backpack and they had been friends since.

And it wasn’t as though Lisa was horrible, either. Stiles did enjoy the girl, liked spending time with her. She was just - she was a lot, and sometimes he just did not have the mental energy to deal with her and her excitement.

“What, he could totally be his dad, like he’s s-” Jason, Lisa’s boyfriend - and almost equally as excitable and enthusiastic about _everything_ \- smacked Nick over the head, stopping the boys sentence.

“Darling, please tell me why I was forced into this?” Peter drawled, raising an unimpressed bro at the college student.

“Babe, be nice to my friends. _Nick_ , be nice to my boyfriend.” Stiles snapped at both men, glaring Nick down until the other boy pouted.

God, all of his friends were so childish.

It didn’t mean that he wasn’t.

Especially when he used his magic to ensure him and Peter won.

* * *

It was supposed to be a nice walk through the park. The sun had set while they were eating and the moon was full and bright in the sky. The Greek place they had tried had been good - not as good as their regular place but not bad and definitely more convenient. They were hardly more than two blocks from the apartment.

The night air was cool in late November and Stiles was staying huddled close to Peter for warmth. Even if it wasn’t particularly cold, it was still far colder than Beacon Hills had ever gotten and the chill was licking up his spine. He was tucked against Peter’s body, both arms wrapped around the wolf as they walked - his torso awkwardly twisted, though he didn’t pull away.

Peter was keeping him close as well, his instincts screaming at him. Peter hadn’t gone for a run since he came. Thankfully he had seemed to be doing fine, his instincts under control. However, this was Peter’s first full moon and the man had been antsy since he woke up. Stiles had never seen the man pace before and yet Peter hadn’t stopped all day.

Atop of his agitated state he had been extra affectionate, smothering Stiles in bed and then forcing the boy to use his lap as a seat the entire day - whether they were on the couch and sitting at Stiles’ desk, Stiles was planted firmly in Peter’s laps, the man's arms wrapped around him. Peter had spent the whole day with his face inches away from Stiles’ neck, breathing in mate and cub and rumbling a purr from deep in his chest.

Stiles’ couldn’t really say he minded. He would never get tired of the easy intimacy they shared, would never tire of just how much Peter wanted him and how carefree the man was with showing it. The only time they had sat apart this whole evening was when they went for dinner and even then Peter insisted on sitting on the same side of the booth, his arm over Stiles’ shoulder and their bodies pressed close.

They were still pressed close, the moon shining brightly on them. Stiles’ spark was sitting content in his chest, the baby's energy settled and happy. Neither were expecting the rumbling growl to sound out behind them. Stiles turned in surprise, Peter’s instincts somehow missing the approaching figure. It - it wasn’t human, draped in shadow it looked far too much like Peter’s previous Alpha form, mingled and hardly human. The thing looped forward and Stiles realized it _was_ an Alpha, hulking in mass and eyes glowing red.

He pulled at his spark even as Peter shifted beside him. Stiles put a hand on the man's chest, holding him back from charging with a bit of his magic. He could feel the wolf's agitation itching under his skin, his need to act but Stiles didn’t release the hold. Stiles pulled at his spark, opening his eyes and letting them glow white with his power. He could see the Alpha’s spark, tainted and twisted and _wrong_ sitting within the Alpha’s chest.

He planted his feet, grabbing at Peter’s hard and pulling the man's own strength and power into himself. He wasn’t sure if he would need the boost but he wanted to be safe. He had only heard about this being done once, had only read it in old, broken english. Truthful he wasn’t sue it would work but he had to try. The wolf was taking another half step towards them, tilting it’s head questioningly.

Stiles let his spark free, let it slither and slink towards the Alpha and wrap around it’s own spark of magic, _pulling_ , tugging the magic out of the wolf. He faltered back a step, his chest burning with the intensity of what he was doing but he didn’t give up. He pulled harder, taking the wolf’s power away from it and watching distractedly as it slunk back into human before crumbling to the floor.

He had the spark of Alpha red magic held within his own and he smoothed it out, did his best to round it’s now sharp edges. He pushed his own magic at it, cleansing. Finally the spark of Alpha power was smooth, _clean_ and he pushed it at Peter, twining it around Peter’s own wolf with some of his own magic.

Peter _howled_ , face elongating and bones ringing until he was on all fours, shaking his new head and staring up at Stiles with confusion. Stiles just laughed, dropping to his knees on the grass. At this height Peter’s wolf was taller than him, the top of Stiles’ head only reaching its shoulders but Peter planted his new face into the boy's neck, breathing and licking with a too-long wolf tongue.

Stiles giggled at the feeling, letting Peter’s _joy_ wash over him, carding his fingers through the soft hair until it all but melted away, smoothing seamlessly back into skin. Peter grabbed Stiles’ face in both hands and pressed their lips together, frantic and thankful and loving.

* * *

“So what is it y’all are lookin’ for today?” the saleswoman drawl was lazy, though not unfamiliar after living here for three months.

“We’re starting a family soon, so we need something child friendly.” Peter said, polite smile on his face.

This was all Peter’s idea. Well, truthfully it was Stiles’ but he would let the man think what he wanted. Peter’s sports car was nice, of course it was - but it was the furthest thing from ‘child safe’ that Stiles could imagine. It was small and went far too fast and Stiles would not let any child of his step inside the thing.

And he had subtly mentioned it to Peter. Well, he had mentioned that they may need a bigger car when they finally started shopping for furniture to put into the baby’s room, and Peter had then taken two entire days to come up with the brilliant idea of buying a new, family friendly car. Stiles was a little surprised it had taken his own prodding for the man to think of the idea, but it was over with now.

Now, they were at a car dealership. Let it be known that Stiles isn’t the most knowledgeable on automotives. He’ll be the first to admit that, though it was blaringly obvious if you ever looked inside Roscoe’s engine. He did know that they needed something with a back seat, preferably a trunk and something far safer than a sports car.

“Uh, well alright,” Stiles could tell the woman was confused and it had his guards already up - used to this sort of reaction.

He wasn’t going to college in a small town. The population was several thousand higher than Beacon Hills had been but - but it wasn’t the largest or more progressive. In the month Peter had been with him and the three weeks they'd been living together, they had gone out a fair bit. Now that they did live together it had tapered down dramatically since Peter first arrived, but they still enjoyed going on dates.

Peter would always call it making up for lost time, but Stiles just enjoyed being in the man's presence when he had a moment to do so. Of course he’d been getting busier and busier with school, but he would never turn down a fun, mid-day lunch date with his boyfriend.

It meant that he had gotten used to the looks he and Peter received. He had long ago resigned himself to dealing with the closed minded. At least the people he surrounded himself with didn’t care, and his father was supportive of their relationship. Really, noone else mattered and Stiles had long ago gotten used to ignoring the stares of others.

Instead of listening Stiles sidled up to Peter’s side, wrapping an arm around the man's waist and leaning into his warmth. He seemed to always be tired from midterms, the amount of work he was doing was kicking his ass and had been for a little over two weeks. Today Peter had offered to go on his own and it wasn’t that he didn’t trust the man, it was that he just liked spending time with him. Time away from his study when he could focus on Peter.

Sometimes it felt like Stiles would never see Peter, if not for the fact that they lived together. When he was home he was studying and if he wasn’t home he was either in class or - surprise, studying at school. Obviously it didn’t help that he was taking extra classes, nearly doubling his course load.

It hadn’t been too horrible at first but as the semester neared an end it was getting to be a little overwhelming and Stiles often found himself stretched far too thin. He was so lucky for Peter, would never forget that, either. The man cooked and cleaned after him, ensured he was eating and drinking enough and showering.

He leaned into the man's side, confident that Peter would take care of this like he’d been taking care of near everything else in their lives.

* * *

“Thank you, baby.” Stiles sighed, pressing a long kiss to the man’s lips, only leaning back far enough to rest their foreheads together.

Campus was buzzing around them, students coming and going from the carpark. Their new car was parked in the spot right beside him and Stiles stepped back to lean against the door, pulling Peter with him and into his personal space, wrapping his arms around the mans waist.

“I love you,” Stiles mumbled into the wolf’s throat, Peter’s arms now warm and safe around him.

“I will never tire of hearing you so that,” Peter mumbled, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ forehead and the boy smiled wider, hugging the man closer.

* * *

Stiles is exhausted.

Finals - finals had been a too much. Sure, midterms were rough but this? Stiles feels like his eyes have been sore for days, and there is no way he could possibly read anything else. His back is hurting and his feet have been swollen for a week. He’s noticeably bigger but thankfully he’s still able to hide most of it under baggy layers, still smaller than he should me.

He just wants to sleep. Wants to curl around Peter and block out the rest of the world for a few hours, maybe even a few days. his eyes were too heavy and his limbs felt unbelievably weak.

He takes a moment to rest against the door, trying to find the strength to raise his hand and punch in the code, even to lazily swipe at the key card when the door opens and he falls forward, face-butting Peter’s chest. Er, he thinks it’s Peter chest,  considering the man is chuckling and wrapping him in a hug, pulling him further upright at the same time.

Stiles let out a breath when Peter hugged him tighter, the man _picking him up_ , carrying him into the apartment. Stiles closed his eyes, resting his face into the curve of the man's neck, letting his arms lay limp at his side. He hummed in thanks but real words felt far too difficult so he pressed a kiss to the skin he found.

Peter set him down but guided him into one of their dining room chairs, though Stiles still didn’t open his eyes. He was awake enough to register the smell of food, though, and he grinned sleepily finally opening his eyes.

Stiles was a little shocked at what he saw. They didn’t use the dining room often, didn’t need it with just the two of them. More often than not they ate side by side at the island, arms brushing as they did. But tonight Peter had set up their large dining table, candles lit over a fancy table cloth, plates and cutlery he didn’t even know they _had_ spread out along the table.

He turned to the wolf, smile growing as his heart thumped faster in his chest - surprised, again, at how much he loved Peter.

“You gonna feed me too?” Stiles mumbled, smiling softly over at his wolf, finally opening his eyes.

Instead of scoffing like Stiles expected Peter lifted him back up - which really, was getting a little annoying - and settled Stiles into his lap. Stiles adjusted to sit more comfortably, grumbling as he placed his legs on the outsides of Peter’s thighs. Peter moved the chair closer to the table, bringing his arms around Stiles and grabbing at the cluterly.

Stiles stared wide eyed as Peter cut into the chicken, bringing the bite up to Stiles’ mouth and holding it there in the air. He - dear god, Peter was literally _feeding him_.

“Sweetheart, you are tired. Let me take care of you,” Peter said softly, the words all but whispered into Stiles’ ear.

And Stiles - well Stiles was already so tied, far too tired to protest so he just leant forward to accept the bite, chewing slowly and moaning a little at the taste. Peter was a good cock, that was something that had surprised Stiles. Before he had moved in, Peter hadn't cooked for him once. Even when Peter first came up they were constantly going out, though it made sense considering there hadn’t been anywhere he _could_ cook.

But now that they had been living together for - god, a month and a half - Peter’s cooking was something he had came to cherish. He couldn't even stop for food at the cafe anymore, not after his body getting accustomed to Peter’s cooking. And Peter’s cooking tonight was just as good as it always was.

He leaned back against the man's chest, settling his hands over the still small bump. It was smaller than it should be, Stiles knew that, but he also knew the baby was healthy - could feel it through his magic. He was certain he would know if something was going wrong. Peter’s theory was that, seeing as Stiles’ magic had created it, his magic was also tempering it’s growth. It was responding to Stiles’ wishes and the wolf was sure Stiles would start to swell once he was done classes and could safely grow bigger.

They ate slowly, Peter alternating bites between himself and Stiles. Stiles was growing tired still, his eyes feeling heavier the more he got to relax. Knowing he didn’t have to wake up for school, that he had no work he had to rush to complete was making it hard to stay awake, though he continued to open his mouth and chew when Peter prompted.

He was probably already drifting off, sitting in Peter’s lap and leaning back into the man's’ chest. He was comfortable, warm from the man’s supernatural body temperature. He yawned, relaxing further into the man's hold and not minding one bit when the man chuckled, especially when Peter’s arms came up to hold him, intertwining their fingers.

Peter hummed against his neck, lightly kissing the skin open mouthed and hot, humid breath dampening the skin with his scent. They stayed like that for just a moment before Peter wedged both arms under Stiles’ thighs and lifted, the boy now sitting in the cradle of Peter’s forearms as the wolf carried him. Peter kept up the rumbling, the noise echoing through Stiles’ back and pulling another tired smile from his lips.

Peter walked through the apartment, keeping his pace slow and even and allowing Stiles to drift back to the in-between, toying the line of consciousness until they were in the bedroom. He sat himself on the bed first and lowered Stiles into his lap, pulling off the boy's shirt before gently depositing him in the middle of the mattress.

Peter pulled off his socks and Stiles was only able to keep his eyes open long enough to watch Peter dig his thumbs into the arche of his foot. His eyes fluttered shut and he moaned, Peter’s hand not only pulling out pain but draining the tension away from his body with the massage. He continued up Stiles’ legs, working at the boys calfs and thighs - having already tugged off his pants.

Stiles wasn’t even sure he was awake when Peter moved him onto his stomach, working on Stiles lower back and he groaned again, the sharpness of Peter’s knuckles and fingers feeling entirely too good, causing Stiles to fall deeper and deeper towards the edge of sleep. He was hardly coherent when Peter made his to his shoulders, digging into his skin and pushing at his muscles and Stiles sighed once more before he drifted off.

* * *

Their apartment smelt like pine and cinnamon and Stiles smiled every time he saw their tree. It’s a grand affair and while most of the ornaments are store bought and fancy, there are the ones from the box his dad brought up. It’s beautiful, and the stockings lining the wall next to it make him smile more. His and his fathers were time worn, handmade and Peter’s was handmade as well - though far messier.

Stiles wasn’t nearly the sewer his mother once was. Still, they looked good lined up next to each other, the three of them, his family. He knew next year there would be one more, another addition to their little family but for now it was good, _so_ good.

He had not been expecting his father. The man had coordinated his visit with Peter, surprising the boy with his appearance. And he was staying - for more than a week. Stiles’ wasn’t sure how he got so damn lucky, but his dad was going to be with them for fifteen days - _finally_ taking some of his vacation time.

After the tears and the hugging, curling up between his dad and Peter on the couch had been great. He had felt so safe, so unbelievably content and he wanted to live in the feeling. He was so thankful for both of the men, that they were both constantly there with their support. And sure, it had taken a while for Stiles and Peter to find their way back to one another but they were together now and that was all that mattered in the end.

He had wanted to live in that moment, settled between the two men he loved but he was still reeling from finals, body still often tired. He didn’t protest when Peter lifted him and carried him to bed, nor when Peter let his father tuck him pressing a long kiss to his forehead. It wasn’t long after that Peter joined him and he curled into the wolf's chest like he did every night.

He knew he just needed to recover, to sleep his fill. It helped knowing that he didn’t just have a two week break but that he wasn’t going back come in the new year, that he would be off. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do about that - either. He couldn’t do much, that he knew, but he wasn’t sure how he would be able to stay locked away for _months_. On the bright side their apartment was large, the wall of windows let in enough natural daylight that he never felt too cooped up.

But - but he would deal with it when the time came. Now it was Christmas and he was surrounded by the two men, the two people he loved more than anything in the world and he was happy.

* * *

**_Warming: Water sports, descriptive scene containing piss-play_ **

“Off,” Stiles muttered, pushing at Peter. The man was currently sucking his soul out through his cock, one hand playing with Stiles’ over-sensitive and swollen nipples. The other was working over the base of his dick as Peter sucked harder on the head, when - when.

Stiles had to _pee_. He had to pee bad. It was pushing at his bladder, almost hurting as the baby shifted inside him and pressed firmer against it. Stiles whined, pushing at Peter’s shoulders and trying to get away, to get the bathroom before he - before he.

Oh, that felt good. Stiles sighed as he slumped back, his erection jerking it Peter’s mouth as the tension eased. He stared wide eyed at Peter as he continued to pee, the man looking up with equally wide eyes though he didn’t pull off. Instead, Stiles could see Peter’s throat bobbing as he swallowed, his own urine dripping down the corners of the mans mouth and Stiles moaned hard at the sight.

He - fuck, his balls drew up and he was still pushing to empty his bladder when he came, the feeling too hot and too strong, making his entire body shudder with it. He had never - had never felt something that strong before and Peter was still sucking despite Stiles’ sensitivity, swallowing and swallowing as Stiles came and pissed at the same time, his whole body shaking with the mixed relief.

He slumped back, Peter still sucking at his cock, draining the boy empty. Once he deemed himself done Peter surged forward, licking into Stiles’ mouth with a harsh moan, rutting once, twice before coming in the v of Stiles’ thigh, coming and coming more than Stiles thought possible, coating Stiles in the warm thickness.

Stiles gentled the kiss, raising a hand to run through Peter’s hair as the man breathed deep, still panting into the crook of his neck. He smiled sleepily, body exhausted from the experience, his whole body relaxing into the pillows as Peter stilled next to him, still staying close and holding Stiles tight, breath still coming fast.

“I - well, that’s one way to discover a kink.” Stiles muttered sleepily, hitting at Peter’s arm until the man lied on his back and Stiles flopped against him, back to chest.

And he promptly fell asleep.

**_End of Scene_ **

* * *

“Peter,” Stiles whispered, poking at the man's side gently, then doing it again with more force when he didn’t answer. “Peeeter!”

The man growled, pushing his face further into the pillow and moving away on the bed. Stiles was determined though, and followed the wolf until Peter was teetering the edge and couldn’t go any further without falling. Stiles poked him again, patiently waiting for the wolf to look up at him. Peter’s eyes were Alpha red and his brows were drawn low, fangs pointing out of his half open mouth.

Stiles was not deterred though. Instead he crossed he legs and settled back against the headboard, petting a hand through the man's hair before asking, “Can you make me a peanut butter and jam?”

“Seriously, Stiles?” Peter said, voice flat.

“Please?” Stiles asked accompanying the request with another poke to the man's ribcage. “Because you love me?”

“No, I am not getting up to make you and a sandwich _again_.”

“How could you do this to me? Aren’t you supposed to _want_ to provide for your mate?” Stiles huffed, turning and glaring at the man. “I am _not_ feeling very provided for!”

“Oh dear lord,” Peter mumbled but Stiles heard him anyway and his next poke held considerably more force than the first.

“You’re a horrible mate, Peter.” Stiles said, watching as the man's muscles tensed. He knew it was a little underhanded to prey on Peter’s base instincts, to try and go after the man's wolf to do what he wanted but - but he was _hungry_ , and there was no way in hell he was getting up.

“I know what you’re doing,” the man mumbled but got up either way, Stiles loudly whistling at the sight of Peter’s bare front, whistling once again as he turned. The man laughed at that, and despite the complaining he had done added a little wiggle to his walk as he left the room.

“Without crusts please?” Stiels called after him, settling further into the bedding with a sigh.

He was asleep by the time Peter got back with his sandwich.

He still ate it when he woke up, though.

* * *

Stiles is due to in two months and he’s big.

As it turns out, Peter’s theory about his spark keeping his stomach small when he needed it to be proved accurate, as over Christmas break his belly had grown fast. He hadn’t quite realized just how small he was at five months, but his stomach went from being a small gut to an actual large, round belly.

Now, month seven he was huge. He hadn't been able to see his toes for months but he was no longer able to see his _erection_ . It - it was frustrating. It was also frustrating that he had to all but roll himself out of bed, that he wasn't able to stand without some sort of support. His back hurt _constantly_ though he hardly did more than walk from one room to another, and although their apartment was big it wasn’t nearly that large enough to warrant such aches.

It was frustrating.

He just - he felt fat. Big and oversensitive and annoyed. He could hardly get comfortable at night and the body pillow Peter had gotten him only did so much. He couldn’t sleep with the man curled around him anymore because he got too warm, and when he got too warm he got sick.

He got sick a lot, actually. The nausea hadn’t been this bad since the first week, had tapered off nicely but was back with a vengeance now. It was exhausting and the fact that he was always tired just made him feel even more tired - somehow. He hardly ever did anything, felt like he was spending his days wasting away on the internet.

He was just so _tired_ , so fucking ready to get this goddamn baby of him that he was having trouble keeping it together. It felt like it was all too much. How was he even going to raise a child? What the fuck was he going to do when the baby - god they didn’t have a _name_ \- was actually alive, and here. He had no idea what to do. He was still eighteen, and yes he was going to be turning nineteen shortly before the birth but still, _still_.

Stiles was going to ruin this baby's life, he just _knew_ it! He had no idea if Peter had any experience raising children. Maybe he had helped with his sister's kids? Was that how pack worked? What if they both fucked it all up? Oh my god they should have taken courses, they should have gone to parenting classes.

Oh my god, neither of them have any idea what they’re doing, do they? He hasn't even read a book, he _always_ reads books and why - why didn’t he, he -

Stiles chest was burning as he tried to breath in but his mind still racing far too fast. He was panicking, knew he was panicking but he had no idea what to do. HIs chest burned warmer, his hands shaking as he tried to gain control. Heat settled along his back, arms wrapping tightly around him. He felt Peter before he heard him, their bond bright and warm with concern.

“Hey, hey baby breathe, breathe sweetheart. That’s it, that’s it.” Peter coaxed, pulling Stiles tight against his chest and rocking them both.

“Peter,” he choked out, clutching at the man's hands and breathing heavily, trying his best to calm his beating heart.

Their pack bond was helping, especially when Peter pushed his own calmness at him, the energy working to sooth him from inside. He slumped back, letting Peter hold him tight and he breathed, clutching at Peter and anchoring himself to his wolf, his mate. He had no idea what in the hell he would do without the man.

“You’ll never have to find out,” Peter whispered into his neck and Stiles nodded even though he hadn't realized he had spoken, sleep pulling at him as his adrenaline faded, his body slumping heavier into Peter’s hold.

Exhasuted.

* * *

“I think we should paint it grey,” Stiles said, looking around the room quickly. There was a very real possibility they were waiting far too long to do this, considering he was eight months pregnant.

To be fair, it seemed as though they were good at putting important things off. Like, the _name_ that they had still yet to pick out. But - but they were decorating the nursery. Or, trying too, at least. They had already picked up everything they would need, though the furniture all sat yet to be assembled around them - still in the original boxes.

There was a changing table, a crib and a large rocking chair. A bookshelf that still needed to be put together, a toy cabinet. Not only that but there were bags of clothes to be put into a yet-to-be-built dresser, toys and toys and toys stuffed into the closet. Peter hadn’t been shy with buying things for their baby and as much as Stiles didn’t want to spoil the child, he couldn’t say he minded.

He hadn’t been light handed with the online shopping either. Buying adorable fox and wolf onesies, cute toys and accessories for their baby. Not only that but he was also buying extra blankets to set up around the house just in case. He was buying pillows and pillows and it was like he was having this incredible urge to _nest_ , to make their den comfortable for the new arrival of their family.

He was pretty sure those instincts were Peter’s, and that Stiles was feeling the residual urges the man was having and pushing away through their bond, but it didn’t stop him from embracing them. He would pile pillows and blankets high around him and cuddle into the warmth, more often than not pulling Peter with him.

But even with all their shopping they had yet to actually do anything, had yet to put anything together. Instead they were standing in the doorway side by side, Stiles with his back arched and feet spread wide to support himself and the baby. Thankfully it hadn’t been shifting too much and hadn’t sat against his bladder in a few days.

“Why grey, dear?” Peter asked from beside him, the wolf scanning a critical eye over the room.

Drama queen.

“Well, it’s neutral right? So it would go with anything. Plus all the wood is dark, so the light grey would, like contrast?” Stiles turned to Peter for the man's opinion just to find the wolf smiling wide at him.

It would never stop to surprise Stiles how open the man was. Every emotion that crossed his face in Stiles’ presence was genuine, and he always felt thankful for being allowed to see so much. He never felt quite as thankful as now, or all the other times Peter would smile big and happy. He knew it was just for him, that all of those sappy, loved filled smiles were because of him.

“I am so proud of you,” Peter praised and Stiles laughed when the man lifted and spun him, settling his hands on the wolf’s shoulders as he was lowered, sliding his palms along the wolf’s neck to cup his face. “You listen when I sprout decor advice.”

“Peter,” Stiles said, softly chiding the man, “Of course I listen to you, I love you.”

“Yeah,” Peter said on a sigh, pulling Settles into a soft kiss, “I love you too, my darling boy.”

* * *

Stiles blinks his eyes open, slowly looking over at to Peter. The man is standing in the doorway, a soft smile on his lips and a tray of food in his hands. He walks into the room - holding the tray with one while helping Stiles to sit up against the headboard, propped up by pillows. Peter sets the tray down and Stiles smiles stupidly at the sight before him.

First there’s an entire pile of cheesy scrambled eggs - his favourite. There’s home fries, piled high with onions exactly how Stiles prefers. Heaping piles of both sausage and bacon are present but what’s causing Stiles to smile is the large chocolate cupcake, delicately iced.

Peter is secretly a baker. Well he is quick to admit to his rather strong cooking skills, he doesn’t often bake. Stiles has been living with the other man for about four months and Peter has only baked a handful of times - and all of them have been delicious.

On top of that the cupcake has a candle sticking out of it and when Stiles looks up Peter starts to softly sing happy birthday, lighting the candle as he begins.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Mieczyslaw , happy birthday to you. I love you, kochanie.”

Stiles smiles, sniffling a little and trying to stamp down on the stupid urge to cry about Peter being so amazing. Peter has been his rock, has been there the entire time and despite Stiles’ ever frequent bitching, his near constant complaining Peter never seems to be annoyed.

He blows out the candle when Peter finished of the song, pulling the wolf down for a kiss. Peter plucks the cancel out so the wax doesn't drip then sits beside Stiles, pulling out two forks and digging into the food. Stiles laughs, swats Peter’s fork away from his eggs and smiles.

* * *

“Peter, I swear to go if you do not get out of this damn house and get me popcorn I _will_ hurt you!”

“Stiles, you can’t even get up,” Peter drawled, looking entirely unaffected as he walked by on the couch, cocky smirk on his face.

And, it was true. He could not get up - at least not if Peter didn’t come and help him, but that didn’t mean he couldn't hurt the wolf. He pulled at his spark, reaching and grasping, flicking his hand and sending a coffee table flying at Peter. The wolf screeched, ducking quick to avoid the furniture spiraling through the air.

“Stiles!”

“I told you!” Stiles said in response, leaning back in the couch and crossing his arms looking away.

“Sweetheart,” Peter tried but Stiles just sniffled, hugging himself tighter. He didn’t want to hear what Peter had to say, whatever excuses he was going to make. “Stiles?”

“No Peter,” Stiles sniffled again, annoyed even as he hugged himself all the tighter. His eyes were already burning and it was stupid, _stupid_ that he was so upset.

But he wanted popcorn and he couldn’t go fucking get it himself. He couldn’t go and get any because he was pregnant. He was pregnant and fat and huge and he couldn’t go outside, hadn’t gone outside in months. He skin felt itchy, had for _weeks_ and he couldn't do anything about it. He wanted to move, to get around but even that was hard now.

He had to waddle to walk, lean his back backwards. He was always sore, his back aching and his feet _burning_ and he was so, so tired of it all. He wanted to be able to stand up on his own, wanted to _go get some fucking popcorn_.

It was a stupid thing to cry over, but he was, leaning back into the couch and crying harder that he wasn’t able to curl up like he wanted to. He felt too open, even if he knew it as only Peter there with him. He just wanted to be alone, and he was sure he said something of the sort even though the couch was dipping beside him, Peter pulling Stiles into his lap as he continued to cry.

Peter was nosing at his neck, holding Stiles and shushing and rocking him, murmuring softly into his ear as Stiles cried and cried.

* * *

The book of baby names was old, the corners worn and paper already yellowing. It was delicate and he held it close to his chest, taking a moment to breath. He hadn’t noticed that his father had left it - wouldn’t have if Peter hadn’t been tidying up the spare room. His dad was supposed to be coming down again after the birth and Peter had wanted to get things ready now just in case.

Stiles wasn’t thinking about the just in case. He was going to trust in his magic, believing that everything was going to be okay and that nothing was going to go wrong. He had to stay positive, would go crazy if he let himself get worried. He couldn’t freak out, not with the due date so soon.

He - he could almost feel his body getting ready, his magic being slowly stored away as if readying itself for the spell, twisting and spreading through his body and waiting - anxious with anticipation. He wished he had any idea what it was doing, had any control over it all but he didn’t.

It was though his magic now had a mind of it’s own and that mind had everything to do with the baby living inside him. At least he knew with certainty the baby would be safe, that his magic wouldn't let anything happen to them. That was why they needed to pick a name so badly. They had procrastinated an unbelievable amount, waiting as long as possible. Stiles was able to feel his body changing faster now, storing up more and more magic and readying itself.

It was - strange. He could almost feel his body rearranging itself, and while everything was still working just fine he was nervous about what would happen. He knew what _would_ happen, intellectually, but the practicality was a whole other matter.

So he was looking through a book of Polish names, the same one that had belonged to his mother and he was thankful his father had left it for him, with him. Stiles knew how lucky he was for his dad’s support and would never take that for granted, not after all they’d been through for nearly a year.

Peter plucked the book from Stiles’ hand, setting himself on the couch and pulling Stiles back against his chest, holding the book out for both of them to see.

He had only been reading through the girls section, somehow just _knowing_. And god, knowing he was going to have a daughter was unbelievable, was so excited and terrifying. How the hell were he and Peter supposed to raise a baby girl?

“How about Kazimiera?” Peter asked, tripping over the word.

Stiles snorted, looking for a moment at the spelling and running the word over in his head. “I think it’s, ka zee me-a ra.”

Peter hummed in thought, tapping the page a few times while Stiles smiled to himself, interlacing their right hands together and settling heavier on the couch.

“I, I want my moms name in there, too.” Stiles said quietly.

“Alright, Kazimiera Claudia Stilinski-Hale?

“If that’s your way of proposing, you better try again dude,” Stiles muttered but he smiled all the same.

Kazimiera Claudia Stilinski-Hale.

Perfect.

* * *

Stiles woke already in pain.

He was aching low in his back and - and he was in places he’d never felt sore before. His crotch felt like it was pulsing, burning with heat and pain. He had never felt like anything like it - _obviously_ he had never felt like anything like it before but it hurt. It hurt and he already wanted it to be over.

“Peter - Peter holy fucking shit holy fuck Peter!” Stiles said frantic, smaking the mans chest and waking him up. Peter was groggy for only a moment before he shot out of bed, pulling off the covers and scooping Stiles.

“Shh baby, shh. We’re going to guest room, going to go lie down, bring out baby into the world.” Peter was far calmer than Stiles would have thought and it was almost _angry_

“Oh my god. No. No this is not okay, oh _my god_ !” Stiles was shouting then, distantly thankful for the fact that they had their own floor but more so freaking out over the fact that he had a _vagina_ , could feel that he had a vagina.

Peter settled him on the spare bed, already filled with clean towels, more sitting on a pillow case next to them. There was an empty bowl for Peter to fill with hot water and clean scissors. He set Settles down, helping the boy to pull off his sweat pants and taking in a sharp breath.

“That - that is a vagina.” Peter pointed out, eyes still wide as he stared.

“Yes Peter and a baby is going to be coming out of it look the fuck alive!” he snapepd, glaring at the man and tugging at his own shirt, whining when he abdomen spasmed.

“ _Peter - Peter fuck_ ,” Stiles began frantic, “You need, you need to go boil the shoelace, oh my god boil the shoelace and the scissors, fuck.”

“Baby, baby calm down,” PEter said, soft. But Stiles wasn’t listening, didn’t care how Peter was running soothing thighs up the boys legs, instead Stiles threw his head back.

He tried to breathe, to breathe and calm and push but it hurt. He - he could feel the baby just slightly over the pain but he couldn’t focus. His spark was going crazy inside him, his magic _snapping_ , whirling and taking even more of his focus. He pushed when his body - or was it his spark? - prompted, letting his body do it’s own thing and hoping for the damn best.

He was pretty sure he was screaming, thankful he had managed to put up a few silencing wards around their apartment the other week. Peter was still rubbing at his thighs, helping him to keep his knees open and spread and - and. Shit, it hurt and Peter was mumbling, talking and talking and Silts heard none of it, just begged for the man, for it to stop.

He felt - he felt his vagina widen, almost, over the pain of it all. His spark was glowing bright and the lights in the room were flickering with his magic, flashing on and off as he continued to push, and to push, and to push. Peter was getting louder, all but shouting to be heard, frantic as he spoke.

“C’mon baby, sweetheart you got this. Oh my god, Stiles oh my god there she is, she’s, fuck oh my god!”

Stiles kept pushing, trying to breath and his muscles - muscles he’d never _had_ before were squeezing around _something_ , the baby and holy fuck, the baby, that’s what Peter meant. He tried to lift his neck, tried to see but he couldn't not with how he was trying to breath and trying to push and - and

“Oh my god,” Peter whispered but Stiles heard him, his voice raw as he tried to reply. The pain was still there, duller now as his muscles were no longer contracting, his hips shifting back as he breathed out heavily before sucking in another huge breath of hair. He let himself rest, giving himself time to breath.

Peter was cleaning the baby, was taking care of the umbilical cord and Stiles wasn’t sure how long he drifted. He trusted Peter to take care of things, especially when he spark was still trying to settle under his skin. He could feel his magic reaching out, searching and grasping at his family, the second bond now warm in his chest.

He smield with his eyes still closed, Peter’s grumbling growl reaching his eyes and he peaked his eyes open to see Peter was smiling weakly, tears streaming down his face as he held the small thing in his hand, already wrapped in towels.

“C’mere, baby,” Stiles said, begged, already crying himself. Or - crying more, since he was pretty sure he had been.

Peter did, laying himself down beside Stiles and transferring the baby from his bare chest to Stiles’ belly. Stiles ran his fingers down the side of her nose, marveling at _how small she was_. It was a little gross that mucus actually followed, but the baby was also converted in - god, he didn't even want to think about what the baby was covered in.

It - it was so _ugly_ , small and wrinkly and it couldn’t even open it’s eyes but it - no, her, _she_ was theirs, was something they made _together_ and Stiles laughed, slumping into the arm Peter wrapped around him and staring down.

* * *

Stiles was sleeping. He was sleeping and it had been _so nice_. But Dia was crying, all but screaming away and the sound carried loud through their open doors.

That was another thing he had to get used to. He was used to sleeping with his bedroom door closed, had the entirety of time living with his father and him and Peter had kept it closed since they moved into the apartment. But now it was open, had to be and it had been so strange at first. Of course he had gotten used to it, his post-birth exhaustion so heavy that for the first few nights he had fallen straight asleep, had barely woken up at all for those first few days.

He pushed himself up, running a hand over the back of Peter’s neck when the wolf began to rouse. Peter snuffled and Stiles smiled softly down at the man, rubbing tiredly at his eyes even as he pushed himself out of the bed. He was happy that Peter had somehow yet to notice the spell Stiles placed on him nightly, more so that Peter was able to sleep.

It took an entire month after giving birth for Stiles to realize that Peter had been waking up every single night to attend to Dia without him knowing, that he was sleeping his fill while Peter continued to look more and more tired, even with his werewolf healing and the lesser need for sleep.

Stiles was beyond thankful, especially because his body was recovering. His magic had literally _changed his body_ , had completely shifted his physicality and while it hurt the first time around, shifting back had been even more painful and beyond draining. Of course it was worth it the very first time he got to hold his daughter - but still.

So while he had been beyond thankful of Peter, he had felt guilty. Horribly so, especially when the man began to fall asleep on the couch at all hours of the day. So he began whispering spells into Peter’s skin at night - much the same one he used back at the bowling alley. It would dull the wolf senses’ to that of a human as long as he stayed in the bed. It gave Stiles a chance to even out some of the work load between the two of them, gave him chance to wake up before Peter and leave the man to sleep.

He made his way out of their room, rounding into Dia’s and trying for a smile even as she continued to wail. The nursery looked good put together and Stiles always smiled at the ridiculous pile of toys piled high in the corner. Dia was still far too young to play with any of it, to appreciate it but Stiles knew they would be well used eventually. Dia cried out again and Stiles sighed before softly closing the door, hoping Peter had really gone back to sleep.

 _‘Demands calm’_ his fucking ass, their baby was the goddamn devil. Their child was nothing like her damn namesake.

That didn't mean that Stiles heart didn’t melt into a pile of goo the minute he picked her up, resting the tiny human against his chest and wrinkling his nose, sighing even as he laid her down on the changing table. At least the nights she woke up crying because she was hungry or because she needed a change were easy.

It was the nights where she was changed, and fed, and then just _kept crying_ , wouldn't stop and Stiles had no idea what to do about those nights, how he was supposed to calm his daughter. He sang old Polish songs, humming the melodies he could remember from his childhood and butchering the pronunciation.

Tonight was one of those nights and he lifted Dia back up, rocking her against his chest as he sang softly, lulling her to sleep. He brushed his spark over her, calming the fledgling magic inside of her, helping to calm her from the inside. It seemed to work and Stiles continued to hold her close after she had finally drifted off.

She was still so small, fit so delicately into his palms, pressed against his chest as she was. Stiles had always thought babies were ugly, were wrinkling and small and strange. And - and he still mostly felt like that, but Kazimiera was _his_ , his and Peter’s and theirs and that made her more beautiful than he knew how to say, than he could possible hope to express.

* * *

Dia was crying. She was always crying, actually. Of course Stiles felt bad but he pushed himself deeper into the couch nonetheless, trying to drown out the noise of his daughter’s wailing. She had been miserably lately, but there wasn’t much Stiles could do. She was burning through his soothing spells, the pain pushing through them.

It was awful, hearing his daughter in such pain. He knew Peter had been leaching her pain whenever it got too bad, but even the pain drain didn’t last for long. Her gums were always sore no matter how often she chewed on the frozen rubber circles Stiles had picked up for her. He was desperate, wanted so badly to help ease her pain.

He got up, lifting Dia from where she was sprawled out on the floor and cradled her to his chest, whispering magic into her skin and pushing with his spark, trying to dull the pain at least for a time. He settled back on the couch, lying down and keeping Dia atop him, his arms cradled around her as he sighed out, staring down at the the little human with a smile.

* * *

They were sat behind the couch, both of them sitting on the floor with their legs spread out. Dia was standing, _standing_ and Stiles and Peter both were beyond excited. This was the longest she had stood still and even though she was leaning against the couch the were beyond excited about the progress.

“C’mon baby, come to Tata,” Stiles said smiling and making faces to get his daughter to giggle and turn his way.

“No Dia, no come to Daddy, this way come on!” Peter called, stealing his daughter's attention and flashing his eyes to get her to squeal.

Stiles narrowed his own in turn, calling at his spark before calling for his daughter's attention, and pulling his spark up. He let it glow bright in his hands, exploding like little fireworks, sparking out around his fingers and Dia giggled again, taking a step, _her first step_ forward. Stiles almost cheered in victory but Peter was already calling his daughter's name, letting his full shift come over and Dia _squealed_ , all but running towards Peter, stumbling along the way and falling into his chest but raising her little fingers to clutch and Peter’s new sideburns, tugging at his ears and poking at his fangs.

Stiles - Stiles couldn’t even be mad he lost, not when Peter was smiling down at their daughter, beta form taking over his face, red Alpha’s eyes glowing in the dim lighting of the room as their daughter laughed, tugging at her father's shifted features. It was so damn adorable, watching his family, _his_ _family_. It made his heart swell, always did, and reminded him how lucky he was.

Stiles crawled forward, crowding the two and letting Dia totter between them, the little girl smacking her palm to her father’s chest and -

Well, that was certainly new. Sparks exploded for the contact, shooting out around her little chubby fingers and she sqeauled. But Stiles just looked with Peter wide eyes, shaking his head at the question in Peter’s eyes. That wasn’t his magic.

“Well, she sure takes after you even if she does like me better,” Peter drawled, and despite the seriousness Stiles snorted, looking down at his daughter and smiling bright.

* * *

“Peter, we _have_ to!” Stiles whined, moving Dia a little higher on his hip.

That was an unexpected consequence, the weight Stiles gained. HIis hips had filled out, his ass fattening. Peter loved it, loved biting into it, sucking marks into it, leaving his fingerprints in the skin there. Stiles wasn’t particularly bothered personally, never one to care too much about his looks. Plus he had given birth, had created _life_ and if a bigger ass was the consequence - well, he'd take it.

“We have to do no such thing!” Peter argued back, all but stamping his foot.

Dia just clapped her hands and screamed.

“Dia, tell Daddy he has to get his pictures taken with us,” Stiles said to his girl, trying to keep his face serious, his lips trembling to and fighting off a grin when his daughter slapped his nose.

“No, Stiles.”

“Peter, this is your daughter’s first Christmas! She deserves this! I deserve this!” Stiles snapped, glaring harshly at the older man

“Alright but I don’t!”

“Peter Ian Hale we are a family! We are going to be sending out Christmas cards. What, do you not think my father deserves to see his Granddaughter? That Derek and Cora wouldn’t want to see their cousin! Peter!” Stiles was pacing in the kitchen, walking the length of the island before turning back and walking the other way. He was exasperated! Frankly, he had no idea why Peter was being so damn hesitant.

“I am going to look awful,” The man complained, combing a hand through his hair.

It was longer than it had ever been, curling back on its own and his beard was still growing, getting longer and less tidy. It wasn’t that it was a bad look, but Stiles figured he should start subtly mentioning getting it groomed. Peter was still hot, of course, and the relatively new crow feet that had begun to line the man's eyes just made Stiles all the more attracted to him.

Yes, he a big daddy kink. No big deal.

“Dear, you _never_ look awful,”

“I just think it’s stupid, alright.” The man practically growled at and Stiles raised a brow at the man's tone.

“Well can you at least consider it?”

“Stiles would you just drop it!” Peter snapped, his eyes flashing deep crimson.

Stiles took a half backward at the sign of aggression, but only to place Dia in her highchair. He stepped closer once their daughter was secure, approaching Peter slowly. Peter had excellent control and it had only grown tighter since Dia’s birth. So Stiles knew that there had to be something more going on.

“Sweetheart, can you tell me why you really don’t want to do it?” Stiles said softly.

It took Peter a moment to calm. Stiles watched patiently as the man breathed deep, rolling his shoulders before he deflated, sinking into his chair.

“It - it was something we did, before the fire.” his words were stilted, hesitant as he spoke quietly, staring at the ground.

“Baby,” Stiles said softly, settling himself lightly atop Peter’s thighs and tangling his fingers into his wolf's hair, pulling Peter’s face into his neck. “If that’s why you don’t want to, we don’t have to. But - but wouldn't you want to carry the tradition on? With _your_ family?”

Peter brought his arms around Stiles and held him close and Stiles closed his eyes, cradling Peter’s head and rubbing at the man's back as he breathed. Dia was still giggling away in her highchair and Peter chuckled when their girl screamed again, laughing away to herself.

“I love you,” The man swore, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ neck and Stiles just hugged the man tighter, forever thankful. “We are going to a studio, getting professional photos taken and wearing something _nice_.”

Stiles nodded, smiling into Peter’s hair and shrieking with laughter when the wolf picked him up, spinning him around their kitchen, their home, _their child_ laughing in response. His breath caught and he was once again reminded just _how much_ he loved Peter, how much their little family meant to them. He had never imagined this, never imagined being so happy.

Their sweaters were _hideous_ , but they still looked _fucking awesome_.

* * *

“I guess she takes after both of us?” Stiles muttered watching as Dia trotted around. She had gotten better at walking through she still kept her arms out and waddled, falling onto her butt occasionally.

Right now she was walking around the kitchen. Stiles was sat on the island as Peter cooked, Dia walking in and around his legs and using them for support. Her eyes were also glowing beta yellow, her tiny ears pointed and a thick ridge replacing her eyebrows.

Peter turned with a raised brow, looking down, his own eyes widening. He dropped to his knees catching their daughters attention. She turned and Peter shifted his own face, watching as Dia clapped her hands and waddled forward.

Stiles watched as Peter let his wolf fade from his face, his features smoothing back into his human skin and Dia copied, following her father's example. Peter flashed his eyes and Dia followed, giggling all the while.

“My little wolf,” Peter muttered staring in awe at his daughter and Stiles twined their fingers together, remembering what it felt like to know that Dia had his magic, that they would forever have that together.

He wasn’t even jealous that Peter had this connection with her too, not with how Peter’s eyes were shining even as he smiled, the wolf letting out a wet laugh when Dia fell between them, blinking up at them both and clapping her hands.

Stiles leaned forward, using his hold on Peter’s hand to pull him in for a slow, sweet kiss.

He was pretty sure that so far, they were doing pretty okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck. alrighty. that happened? This fic was supposed to be _maybe_ 10k? YEAH I LIED TO MYSELF. there is literally a third installment planned like holy fucking shit jeSUS. I am not prepared, at all. 
> 
> WOW Ok, let's talk about this chapter and why it's a hot mess. it just _is_ , alright. I feel like i need to stress this? that it's important to note? I mean, it's cute and fluffy and yes I am aware that Peter is completely OOC but i wanted it to be like this. the first chapter was so sad, this like - entire chapter is happy. and, _orgasms_ , it has those too!
> 
> I do hope you enjoyed, and that it was as good as you were expecting? that you read the whole thing? that the birth wasn't too horrible. like fair warning, i did maybe four minutes of googling before i just jumped right in so? its rough i know? I took me a long while to get through this fic, and it was slow going, i'll admit. I also hope you're excited for the third part, and if there is anything you want to see happen let me know!
> 
> Today is December 1st and I am happy to announce I have a lot planned for December! I do plan on making a tumblr post about it, so go check me out there? also, lots of love always!!
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr!!!](http://brandileeder.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> thanks [feelingsdusk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingsDusk/pseuds/FeelingsDusk) for the help!  
> thanks [red_crate](https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate) for the line “It'd be better for you to miscarry than bring that abomination into the world!” !
> 
> okay. woah. this story is long. it is seriously long. I have never, never, never before written something this length! This is the last fic I am writing for the week, though the third last day. This story was crazy to write and I am proud to say I got it done in only two days! This is also one of the fics that I have ever sat down and actually planned out before writing. It made the writing of this story incredibly easy, and I am so happy I did.
> 
> This story was really hard for me to write. I am not an angst writer, I do not go into my feels. That being said, this is a sad story. I don't exactly why I wanted that to happen, when I insisted on nearly 12k of Stiles being hurt but... I can't say I'm upset! 
> 
> this story also has a second chapter with will literally be only fluff and nothing else. hopefully it'll be out by dec.1
> 
> either way thank you for reading!!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


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